


Knives Out : Smuggler’s Cove

by wantisamlindyla



Category: Knives Out (2019), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Benoit Blanc / Dapper outfits, Discussion of Violence, Epistolary Romance, F/M, Feed me sire, Knives Out / Sequel Trilogy Crossover, Major Canon Character Death, Rian Johnson is my leige lord, Unsafe Sex, Where I pretend this is the Knives Out sequel we're getting, frank discussion of autopsy results, mentions of child abuse, my obsession with true crime has finally become useful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22614217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wantisamlindyla/pseuds/wantisamlindyla
Summary: Private investigator of great renown, Benoit Blanc, had envisioned his vacation in the Florida Keys to go very differently.He had been looking forward to white sandy beaches, palm trees, cocktails with the colourful little umbrellas in them, and plenty of time to catch up on his reading.But when Han Solo, owner of the popular Smuggler’s Cove Inn, turns up dead, and the lead suspect is the victim’s own son, Ben Solo, Blanc’s old friend Detective Poe Dameron asks him to join the investigation as a personal favour.But as Blanc digs deeper and deeper into the Solo family’s dark history, he uncovers secrets and betrayals that perhaps should have been left well alone.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 166
Kudos: 140





	1. In which Benoit Blanc takes on a case!

**Author's Note:**

> So when I heard yesterday that we are getting a Knives Out sequel, all my little heart wanted was for Daisy and Adam to be cast to play angsty star crossed lovers. 
> 
> And then I cried in the shower because all I want is for Rian to work with Adam and Daisy again because TRoS was so soulcrushing. And then I sat down and aggressively banged out an outline for a Reylo/Knives Out AU Fic. 
> 
> I wanna dedicate this to Casino Royale era Daniel Craig strutting around the Bahamas in his linen suit. I also want to dedicate this to my sister and brother Reylos. I only joined the fandom a few months ago and I am absolutely floored and humbled by the vast amount of of truly high quality fic, art, podcasts, music that exists in this wonderful fandom. I love you all.

_I have known that boy as long as he has been alive: sullen, gloomy, arrogant, and even violent. More recently, he has grown secretive and obsessive. He is also tender-hearted and passionate. Although he never speaks of his feelings, and would rather lash out and act cruelly to those who love him and who he perceives has slighted him rather than speak his heart out in words. At times, however, he’s not vicious at all, but cold like ice has formed where his heart should beat and his face has frozen into a cold inhumane mask, as if there are two persons occupying his body, fighting for control. At other times-_

“Excuse me, Mr Blanc? A Detective from the Sheriff’s Office is at reception asking for you.” 

Blanc barely manages to hold back a curse word as he lowers his book to look at the girl who had appeared next to his pool side lounge chair to deliver a poorly timed message. Was he ever going to get to finish this flipping book? 

Two weeks. Two measly weeks on a beach with a good book and pretty waitresses bringing him Pina Coladas with the colourful umbrellas in them without interruption was all he was wanted for his vacation, obviously even that was too much to ask for. 

Blanc sighs and snaps the book shut, rising to follow the girl back into the foyer of the outrageously expensive and private hotel that he had checked himself into after arriving in the Florida Keys yesterday afternoon. 

_One night._ Blanc thought darkly. _I’ve been here only one night._

Poe Dameron was dressed for work: grey suit and a black tie, his jacket was draped over his arm and the state of his clothing made it obvious he hadn’t slept the night before. 

He hadn’t changed since Blanc last saw him. He'd relocated to the Monroe County Sherriff's Office a few years ago. There were a few more lines on his face and his dark hair was starting to grey at the temples, but it did nothing to detract from his ruggedly handsome features, it suited him: gave the irreverent and cocky flyboy Blanc had met all those years ago some gravitas. 

“Detective Dameron.” Blanc smiled, even if he was annoyed at his vacation being unceremoniously interrupted, he was always pleased to see an old friend. 

“Mr Blanc,” Poe shook his hand and grinned, Blanc noticed his smile was strained and his eyes were red-rimmed. “Boy, are you gonna be pleased as punch you decided to spend your Christmas vacation here in the Keys.” 

There was no point in resisting. Blanc already knew he was going to cave, and the faster they got on with it the faster he could get back to his book. 

“Why don’t you tell me where you found the body over breakfast,” he says, resigned, “And, I’d be much obliged if you’d recommend somewhere with decent coffee.” 

***

Blanc goes upstairs to change into a pressed white button down shirt and a light grey linen suit before Poe drives him to a cafe that serves slow-drip cold brew coffee which does a lot to warm Blanc up to the situation. 

After breakfast Poe leaves him the file and says he’ll pick Blanc up after lunch. He wants Blanc there while Poe and his partner conduct interviews with the family. 

Poe had looked tired while he went over the case with Blanc at breakfast.

“ _The death hasn’t been ruled as a homicide yet, but the Chief told us we’re gonna treat it like one until the autopsy report says otherwise. Han wasn’t the kind of idiot to go get drunk and fall out of his plane by accident. News got out real quick and Han is...he_ was _a popular guy around here, and we’re getting dozens of phone calls every hour to the station asking us whether we’ve arrested Han’s son yet._

_"I’m too close to this one Benny_ ,” Poe confesses, moving his eggs around the plate with his fork, “ _And I don’t trust Hux to not screw this up. But Han was my friend - I’d just feel better knowing you’ve got my back on this one.”_

Blanc sips his coffee slowly in a corner of the cafe as he looks over the photos of a bloated white corpse that had been found floating just off the coast by a fisherman early yesterday morning. 

The victim, aged 66, Caucasian white male, Han Solo, operated an Inn on a remote corner of the main island known as Smuggler’s Cove.

Blanc googled the business name and followed a link to Tripadvisor.com. 

The most recent post at the top of the page was from a customer who had left a glowing five star review:

_Hubby and I recently stayed at Smuggler’s Cove for three nights for our honeymoon. We had the most amaahhzing time with Han and his family. Everyone went over and beyond to make sure we had a really special time during our stay. No complaints about the wifi or service. Han’s daughter, Rey, is a very experienced diving instructor and she took us out to check out to explore the coolest and creepiest shipwrecks. OMG the Inn, I cannot emphasize how beautiful this place was, the rooms were beautiful and got cleaned everyday. The authentic Cuban breakfast was mouthwateringly good. I got way too addicted to Finn’s cocktails while I was there so some nights are a little blurry- LOL! Luke was even kind enough to take us out on his boat for a day of fishing on our last day which was a very special and unexpected treat. Hubby even got a chance to fly with Han on the famous Millennium Falcon to get a bird's eye view of the island. He came back with the most amazing photos and I was a little annoyed with myself for chickening out and missing the experience. I kept telling Hubby I was going to leave him and run away with Han - and I am pretty sure I was only half kidding. XD Thanks Smuggler’s Cove for an unforgettable adventure!_

Blanc finds a photo of Han Solo on the Inn’s website. He’s sporting a crooked grin as he poses proudly in front of a seaplane that has clearly seen better days. The words Millennium Falcon are clearly visible on the fuselage. He’s shirtless, tanned and clearly in fantastic shape for a man in his sixties. 

Blanc turns back to the file. 

Cause of death was unknown. The toxicology and autopsy reports weren’t in yet. 

Poe’s scribbled notes inform Blanc that Han had left the Inn on Thursday evening in the Falcon around six o'clock. His daughter, Rey, had been the last person to see him alive. 

Rey didn’t know where Han had gone. 

Underneath the notes are a list of names written in a hand that doesn’t belong to Poe:

_Ben Solo;_

_Rey Niima;_

_Luke Skywalker;_

_Maz Kanata._

Ben Solo’s name is underlined and circled a few times and Blanc stares at it for a long time, something that feels like a warning creeps down his spine. 

***

Hux doesn’t want him here. 

Blanc can feel the resentment and hostility rolling off Poe’s partner as they drive down a long stretch of road towards Smuggler’s Inn. 

It doesn’t bother him. It’s not the first time a detective has gotten territorial over Blanc working the case with them. He'll come around. They all do in the end.

Blanc stares out the window, taking in the endless turquoise water surrounding the highway as Poe fills him in on gaps in the story that hadn’t been in the file. 

“Han was hired by the CIA during the 70s to smuggle high profile defectors out of Cuba on his plane with his co-pilot Chewie. Don’t even know how he fell on the CIA’s radar, but Han loved to brag that he was Pablo Escobar’s right hand man before he went straight. 

"Han met Luke around this time, this was before Luke went to law school, he’s always vague about what he was doing at that time working in the State Department but Luke was the one who introduced Han to Leia while Bail Organa was stationed here. 

“The smuggler and the American princess.” Blanc says wryly. The Organas were as close to American Royalty as one could get. The family came to America on the Mayflower and had the Kennedys beat in the number of congressmen, senators, governors, generals and presidents the family line had produced. 

Poe snorts, “Yeah, well, Han was always running away from DC to come back to Florida even after they got married, I don’t think it was easy being Leia Organa’s arm candy. Then after their son got convicted and sent to prison the media ran the story for a month straight, Leia offered to hand in her resignation but the President refused to accept it. She kept on working in DC and Han just buried himself here.” 

“And where does Han’s daughter fit into all this?” Blanc asked. 

“Rey’s from Jakku, it's a small town outside of Nassau. She was six when they found her abandoned at the airport. She had a London accent so they tried to find her parents by tracing flight records but they came up with nothing. She said once she’s not even sure if Rey is really even her legal name or just a nickname her mom used to call her. 

"They just stuck her in a Catholic orphanage in Jakku run by militant nuns. She got sick of it and ran away when she was about thirteen - don’t know how she did it but apparently she stole onto people’s boats and hopped around from island to island until Han caught her sneaking onto the Falcon while he was in Havana. Then he brought her home with him and she’s been his daughter in all but name since.” 

“So she was never formally adopted?” Blanc asks with interest.

“Nah,” Poe says dismissively, “Nobody came looking for her and Han couldn’t be bothered dealing with the assholes at CIS to justify why this kid was better off with him than anywhere else.” 

Blanc frowns, evidently the local authorities here hadn’t bothered to check in on how an orphan child from nowhere felt about being taken in by an older man who lived alone on a isolated ten-acre property.

Blanc bites his tongue, and says instead, “One phone call to the Secretary of State at the time probably could have cut through a lot of unnecessary red tape.” 

Poe nods in agreement, “Yeah, well Leia’s probably the reason Rey got her visa so easily as soon as she turned eighteen.” 

“And how do Leia and Rey get on? Leia and Han never officially divorced isn’t that correct?”

“Yeah, not officially. She visits Han now and again, she and Rey get on fine. I think Leia offered to take Rey with her to DC for a visit last year at Christmas, but Rey said she had plans with friends in Miami.” 

“Will she be in town for the funeral?” 

“I’m sure she will.” A pause, then Poe sighs heavily, “Rey was devastated when I gave her the news, Han was all the family she had in the world. She’s had it tough, but you wouldn’t know it looking at her, she’s a sweet kid.” 

“How fortunate it is then that she has such kind and caring friends at the Sheriff's office.” It’s the first time Hux has spoken since Blanc got into the car. 

Blanc doesn’t like his cold sly voice. 

“You didn’t exactly throw yourself into the car and drive out at your earliest opportunity to personally tell Ben Solo his old man kicked the bucket did you Dameron?” 

Poe stares straight ahead, his jaw tight, he doesn’t answer Hux and a fraught, heavy silence settles in the car.

***

He had already seen photographs of the house online, the boxy two-story plantation home has large evenly spaced windows with tidy sky blue shutters and a matching blue roof trim. A balcony wraps around the house’s perimeter to create a porch fenced in with white railing and square pillars.

The house faces a private beach, its surrounded by soft white sand and tall swaying palm trees - it is a picture-perfect image of a tropical idyllic getaway.

White lounge chairs are strewn across the beach and Blanc recognizes the small pier from the photograph of Han posing next to the Falcon. The pier currently hosts a sleek speedboat, an older but well-maintained dive boat, and an Everglade fishing boat. There is no sign of the seaplane. 

Blanc pulls Poe aside as they are making their way towards the house, he waits until Hux has moved out of earshot before speaking. 

“Poe, help me here," Blanc says, "I am desperately tryin’ to make sense of why you’re wasting time and resources on pursuing this before the reports come back. And why is Han’s son your prime suspect before the cause of death has even been determined? He’s been out on parole for two years without committing any further offences. His conviction was a white collar crime, nothing violent. He hasn’t seen his dad for five years. Where’s the motive?” 

Poe rubs his eyes tiredly. “Trust me, I know how this reads on paper, but this place, it has long memories. What you gotta understand is, Han Solo is a hero around these parts. They loved him. Five years ago Ben Solo showed up and nearly beat his dad to death in public. Han was in hospital for weeks. His leg was never the same again. All the locals here still talk about it. 

"Then, just a few days ago Han’s son shows up again, people see them getting into a brawl at Maz’s on Tuesday night and there are witnesses who heard Ben threaten Han. Three days later Han turns up dead. We’re not doing our job if we just sit around and wait for the ME to confirm what everyone here already knows.” 

Blanc’s mind turns to the photograph that the Washington Post had chosen for its front page the day that Ben was sentenced to five years prison time with possibility of parole after two years. He had looked much younger than 28 years old in his dark suit, his forehead creased and head bowed solemnly as his attorneys accompanied him down the courthouse steps. 

Blanc frowns, he looks out towards the ocean. He tries to imagine that young man’s face twisted in rage, violently holding his father down under the gentle waves as Han claws and fights him and the life slowly drains from his body. 

***

The house is quiet when they step through the front doors to a large foyer. There’s a large wooden desk littered with files which must function as a reception desk. The space is sumptuously decorated with dark leather armchairs, overstuffed cushions, Turkish rugs and large china vases filled with palm fronds and fresh tropical flowers.

Nobody comes out to greet them, but Poe guides them through heavy wooden double doors into a dining room. The enormous dining table could easily seat twenty people, but the seats are currently unoccupied except for a handsome black man slumped over a tumbler of amber liquid.

“Finn.” The man looks up, his young face is lined with grief, but he breaks into a relieved smile at the sight of Poe.

“Hey man,” Finn stands to take Poe’s hand before pulling him in for a one-armed hug. “Thank God,” he says reverently after they have separated, “I need someone to talk to before I start losing my mind.”

“Where is everyone?”

“We sent all the guests home, and cancelled the tours for the rest of the week. Luke’s shut himself in his room, Rey went out saying she needed to go for a walk two hours ago, Artoo’s been manically cleaning the entire house and Threepio,” Finn gestures helplessly vaguely, “who knows.”

“We’ll need to speak to Luke and Rey today,” Poe informs him gravely.

Finn glances over at Hux and the two men share mutual looks of loathing before his eyes land on Blanc.

“Finn, this is Benoit Blanc, the private investigator I mentioned to you before?”

“Oh, wow, yeah of course,” Finn steps forward to offer Blanc a hand. “Poe showed us your article in the New Yorker. And I read up on Vanity Fair about how you helped solve the Thrombey case. Really cool.”

“Oh, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Blanc replies politely. “I am here in a sort-of, uh - unofficial consultant slash objectivity minder slash observer capacity. Please don’t feel like you are obliged to pay me any mind.”

Finn nods politely, but when Blanc turns his head to look at the sideboard he sees him throw Poe a look that clearly says “ _What the hell Poe?_ ”

“So uh- what do you do here Finn?”

“Oh, uh, I do a bit of everything, I guess you could say I’m the speed boat operator slash mixologist slash manager of this fine establishment?”

Blanc stifles a laugh but before anyone says anything else a man with a mop of shaggy grey hair, matching beard, and piercing blue eyes steps into the room.

“Poe. Detective Hux.”

“Luke. Hey.” The lightened mood in the room immediately turns solemn. Poe takes a deep breath. “We need to ask you some questions.”

***

They squeeze themselves into Han’s study. It’s a tight fit, but Blanc situates himself in the corner with a clear view of Luke who takes the chair in front of the desk littered with documents. Poe perches himself on the edge of the desk facing Luke and Hux chooses to lurk by the door leaving the large chair behind the desk empty.

Blanc examines the photos hanging on the wall next to him. A younger Han and Luke in orange jumpsuits with their arms around each other gin at the camera, sweaty and pleased with themselves in a large plane hangar surrounded by people in matching jumpsuits frozen mid-cheer. He thinks he spots a young and glamorous Leia Organa off to the side, looking over at Han and Luke and laughing.

There are other photos, Han and a dashing black man (is he wearing a cape?); Han laughing with a hairy fellow in a cockpit of a small plane; Leia, resplendent and beautiful in white lace smashing cake against Han’s scowling face.

There are more recent photos of a greying Han and a young skinny girl on a familiar beach, Han looking uncomfortable in a tuxedo posing next to Leia and President Mothma at a fancy gala.

Blanc’s eyes linger over a photo of Luke and Leia leaning into each other, their youthful faces smiling at him with matching toothy grins. His blonde hair and blue eyes perfectly complement her striking dark eyes and hair.

“Luke,” Poe begins in a formal tone, flipping open his notebook, “When was the last time you saw Han?”

“Thursday morning.” Luke replies, “Right in this office, I came in after breakfast to ask him about the guests that were supposed to be arriving this weekend. I wanted to know if he was going to pick them up from the airport or whether he wanted me to go.”

“Where did you go after that?”

“Finn and I took a group out for a full-day dolphin sightseeing and snorkeling tour. We didn’t come back until after the sun had set, it was around seven o’clock. Rey was in her room and the Falcon was gone.”

“You didn’t know where Han had gone?”

“No.”

“You didn’t notice anything strange about his behavior? When you spoke to Han that morning?”

“No.” 

Luke’s answer to each question was very swift and precise, his responses didn’t strike Blanc as being rehearsed or dismissive, no, this was a very clever, sharp old bear watching a small cub trying to bat at him with his little paws with great patience and restraint.

“Did you notice anything about Han’s behavior that struck you as out of the ordinary these past few days?”

Luke’s eyes sharpened. “If you’re referring to the fact that his son suddenly showed up without any warning on the island and immediately got into another public brawl you don’t need to dance around it. Any person on this island could tell you about that.”

“I don’t want to know what gossip Beaumont and Snap are spreading down at the fish market. I want to know what _you_ know about it. Did Han talk to you about Ben?”

Luke’s eyes turn flinty at the mention of Han’s son’s name. “No, we didn’t talk about it. I just know Han went out on Tuesday night to Maz’s after dinner.He came home after midnight with bloody knuckles and in a foul temper.

"He took the Falcon out first thing on Wednesday and didn’t come back until sometime after I went to bed that night around ten o’clock. Nobody talks to Han about his son, okay? Nobody brings it up in front of him unless you’re looking for his fist in your face.”

“Did Han seem worried? Scared after he came back from Maz’s on Tuesday night?”

“Scared? No. He was…withdrawn, short-tempered, snapping at Finn and Threepio for no reason.”

“Can you tell us what happened the last time Ben came to the island? Back in 2015?” Hux asks Luke. 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t living here then.”

It seems like Poe and Hux have run out of questions. They fall silent as they review the notes they’ve scribbled into their notebooks. 

But Blanc is straightening, he takes a step closer, leaning his hip casually against the edge of the large desk. 

Luke had dodged that question very well. But Blanc didn’t usually require people to purge the contents of their stomach into the nearest flowerpot to catch them mistruthin’ even if it had been very helpful in Marta’s case. 

“You weren’t here then because you were back in Miami. Your office was busy filing charges against Ben Solo, three counts of knowingly making a false material statement under oath in an ongoing federal investigation in the Federal Court. Ain’t that correct Mr Skywalker?”

Poe and Hux spin around to stare at him in astonishment before swiveling back to Luke for his answer.

Luke blinks at him, then slowly, “Yes, that is correct.”

“By a very happy and fortuitous accident, I managed to get a look at the Court file this morning. I couldn’t help noticin’ that you _personally_ signed off on the charges.” 

Poe’s jaw is hanging open. “This morning? How - how the hell did you get-,”

“Oh I called in a couple of favors,” Blanc waves his hand as if getting hold of a soft copy of a criminal Federal Court file that had been sitting in an off-site archive for years within a space of three hours was an easy task.

(it had been quite difficult actually)

“I mean,” Blanc leans forward a little, his eyes narrowed, his voice hushed so that his southern drawl is even more pronounced than usual, “What _really_ interests me is what you and Han talked about after _that_? You left your position as State Attorney just a few months later and moved down here to get a start on your retirement while his son got shipped off to a federal correctional facility.”

Luke sighs, closing his eyes before answering, suddenly sounding very tired and old. “Han knew I was just doing my job. It wasn’t personal.” 

His eyes open and he looks directly at Blanc.

Pain, both ancient and new, is etched into the lines of his face as he says, “It wasn’t ever personal with Ben.” 

_Now that,_ Blanc thinks, _is the first lie you have told me Luke Skywalker._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smuggler's Cove Inn 
> 
> Benoit's Dapper Outfit 


	2. In which Benoit Blanc meets Han’s children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg you guys, you guuuuysssss, I have never had as much fun as I have had these past two days writing this chapter and finalizing the outline for this fic. IT'S GONNA BE A WILD RIDE. 
> 
> So if you're waiting for the Reylo stuff, I promise it's coming, at this point though you'll have to wait till at least Chapter 4 for the ball to start rolling. But in the meantime I am having a ripper of a time playing with this Blanc/Hux/Poe detective dynamic. 
> 
> It's like Poe is good cop, Hux is bad cop, and Blanc is the goodest and baddest cop, depending on which way the wind is blowing that day. 
> 
> Please do consider leaving me a comment to let me know if you are enjoying the fic. We poor fanfic writers don't get no dough for our writing, so we feed ourselves of your reviews and comments! <3

**Chapter 2: In which Benoit Blanc meets Han’s children**

****

Poe tells Luke they will need to interview Artoo and Threepio as well so Luke leaves the office to find the Inn’s cook and housekeeper. 

As soon as Luke leaves the room, Hux rounds on Blanc in astonishment. “What the hell was _that_?” 

Blanc wanders over to the desk, his eyes scanning the pile of correspondence and invoices strewn across its surface. 

“I am merely tryin to get a better understanding of Ben Solo's history.” He replies levelly as he digs his reading glasses out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. 

“You both seem to be fixating on what happened here during the past seven days. If Ben Solo _did_ indeed commit patricide, then Han’s death was the epilogue of a story that began around 30 years ago. I’m trying to draw out the earlier chapters to get to the truth.” 

Blanc sinks down into the desk chair and starts snooping through the desk drawers. “If you’re lookin’ to convince the State to prosecute, you gonna have better motive than allegedly a couple of people overheard Ben Solo threatening his daddy at a bar a few days before he died.’” 

He looks up to fix Hux with an arch look. “Also, have neither of you even _considered_ that if Solo is here to exact some revenge for past wrongs that maybe Han wasn’t the only one around here he’d still be holding a grudge against?” 

Hux’s mouth snaps shut, looking thoughtful. 

Poe just looks troubled. 

In the bottom drawer of the desk, Blanc finds a photo frame lying facedown on a pile of accounting books. He turns it over to study a photo of a younger Han and a boy with jet black hair in the cockpit of what must be the Falcon.

The boy has an aviation headset on over his ears and is peering out the cockpit window grinning in delight at something that his dad is pointing out to him in the distance. 

Blanc returns the photo back to the drawer and is sliding it shut when the door to the study opens again. He is expecting Luke to return to the room but instead it's a young woman.

Blanc hadn’t seen any photos of Han’s daughter online or in the file. He had imagined her to be an older version of the skinny girl in the photograph on the wall, sunburnt, freckled and tomboyish, all elbows and knees. 

She’s lovely. 

Her hair is a darker brown than it was in the photograph, and it’s cut into a stylish bob framing a small face with big eyes, a long slender nose, and a wide mouth, the overall effect makes her seem too much, too adorable or too cute to be real. Back home, the old church ladies would have fallen over one another to pinch her cheeks and proclaim her pretty as a peach. 

She is tall for a woman, her form is slim and athletic: the only remnant of the tomboy from the photo. She is dressed in a simple dark blue pullover and denim shorts which make her tanned legs seem impossibly long.

Her eyes flicker over to where Blanc is sitting at her father’s desk. Blanc immediately stands up, feeling guilty to have been caught trespassing. 

“Rey,” Poe has turned to greet her gently. “Hey, how are you doing?” 

Her eyes are swollen. Her face is wan and pale. But she greets Poe and Hux politely and shakes Blanc’s hand when he is introduced to her.

“All of you must be cramped in here, why don't you talk to Threepio and Artoo out on the porch?” 

She’d maintained her London accent.

Blanc wonders briefly whether she had ever made any effort to return to the UK, and track down her family, or whether she had found peace and belonging in the father that she had found in Han. 

Blanc, Poe and Hux follow her outside to the porch and settle around an outdoor dining set. 

The sun has dipped low in the sky and there is a strong breeze blowing in from the ocean. 

Blanc watches Poe watch Rey, the wind moves through the dark strands of her hair brushing gently against the edge of her jawline and her slender neck. 

She goes back inside and returns with a tray laden with tall glasses of iced tea garnished with slices of lemon and mint and home-made Portugese egg tarts. 

When Poe starts to protest, she only shrugs and says it’ll go to waste anyways. 

Artoo and Threepio are a sweet Cuban couple, one short and round, the other tall and slender.

Poe questions them in rapid-fire Spanish. 

They confirm what Luke had already told them. They had been busy in the kitchen on Thursday evening preparing dinner for the guests returning to the Inn after the full-day tour. They hadn’t noticed when Han left, although it must have been before Luke and Finn came home because when Theepio came out to welcome the group into the house he had noticed the seaplane was gone.

Blanc listens while surreptitiously observing Rey. 

She is barely paying attention, she sits curled up in one of the chairs, her face angled towards the shoreline, her eyes sad and her mouth drawn in a tight line. 

When Poe is finished with the housekeeper and the cook, and they return to the house, Poe turns to Rey to get her attention, but before he can say anything, Hux starts to talk. 

“Ms Niima, we’re going to need to ask you some questions about Han.” 

Her eyes flicker over to Poe, who is staring down at his notebook, carefully avoiding her gaze. 

“Have you found out how it happened yet?” 

“No, we are waiting on the reports from the medical examiner, but we are currently treating the circumstances of his death as suspicious.” 

Rey doesn’t look surprised by the information, but she replies, “I’ve told Poe what I know already. Han came to my room and told me he was heading out around six. He didn’t say where he was going. Poe came to see me yesterday morning and told me a fisherman found him off the coast at around sunrise.” She sounds exhausted and irritated at having been forced to repeat herself. 

“Yes, you did tell Detective Dameron this already,” Hux’s tone is mild and measured, “We also want to know if you noticed anything strange about his behavior this past week.” 

Rey’s eyebrows snap together, “Strange?” 

“Yes, was he acting particularly out of character, perhaps a little distracted, more easily irritated than usual?” 

She doesn’t answer for a long time, her face is unreadable as she considers Hux’s question. And then, “No. Not really.” 

“No?” Hux’s eyes bore into Rey’s, “Are you sure about that?” 

Rey’s voice is steady, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Were you at the Inn on Tuesday night?” 

“Yes.” 

“Apparently Han went out that night to Maz’s and came home after midnight. Did you see him when he came home that night?” 

“You want me to talk to you about Ben Solo.” She says flatly. 

Blanc is watching Rey very carefully, noting how still her face has become. 

“We’ve been told he arrived on Monday and he’s been renting a place at Sugarloaf Key. Apparently Han had a run in with his son on Tuesday night, people who were there at the bar said things got heated, and Ben was overhead threatening Han.” 

“I don’t - I don’t know anything about that. We had a dive scheduled for Wednesday morning. I was in the equipment shed checking the diving gear that night. And, Han doesn’t talk about Ben. Not to anyone.” 

Hux, scoffs. “Not even you? Never?” 

“No.” 

“So you haven’t had a run in with Solo? Not since he’s been here?” 

“No.” 

“No?” Hux raises a mocking eyebrow, “No cosy family reunion with your long lost brother? Thought you would have wanted to find him and give him a matching scar on the other side of his ugly mug.” 

There is a long pause, her eyes are narrowed, Blanc strongly suspects Rey is trying to keep some rising emotions in check, finally she says in a low voice, “He is _not_ my brother.” 

“Ok, that’s enough,” Poe finally speaks up. 

Rey pushes herself away from the table and stands up. “I’m done with questions for today.” She tells Hux cooly, “If you have any more questions about Ben Solo, maybe the best person to ask would be the man himself, since you seem to know exactly where he’s staying.” 

She storms off towards the beach. Poe stalks off after her. 

Hux and Blanc watch them, Poe keeps pace with her, talking quickly and gesticulating with his hands apologetically. 

“What did you mean?” Blanc says quietly. “About the scar?” 

Hux takes a leisurely drink of the iced tea, “That sweet young thing? The one that's got Dameron tripping over his feet trying to protect her like she’s some dewy-eyed damsel in distress?

When Ben Solo showed up here at the Inn five years ago, he gets right into it with Han, fists go flying. Han gets a few fractured ribs, a broken leg. When Finn and a few guests try to get in there and help, they get broken noses and mild concussions for their efforts. 

People say at this point that Solo's lost his mind, he’s got his old man pinned down against a table, his hands are around Han’s neck choking the life out of him. 

In she charges, she must have been what? Sixteen, Seventeen? She grabs a bottle from the bar, smashes it like she's a thug in an East London pub and slashes him right across his face. Tears him right open from the shoulder right up to the forehead.” 

Blanc pictures it, a small fierce girl, brought home by Han as a replacement child, lunging at the true-born son to protect her chosen father, flesh ripping open, blood spilling, screams echoing in the night. 

“Ah - so that’s the reason why no charges were brought against Solo at the time. Han wouldn’t have wanted anything to jeopardize Rey’s safety.” 

Hux doesn’t disagree and Blanc thinks that, if Rey didn’t already know that the Ben Solo is the police’s chief suspect in the murder of her father, then she definitely knows it now. 

***

Poe and Hux argue during the entire drive to Sugarloaf Key. 

“I said you can do the questioning, not fucking interrogate her. Her dad just died. You didn’t need to go hard on her.” Poe hands are gripped tight around the driving wheel as he unloads his anger on his partner. 

“I was doing my job,” Hux says dismissively, “Just because you’re itching to get her into bed compromises your objectivity, doesn’t mean it should affect my work performance.” 

“Christ, shut the fuck up. Would it kill you to pretend to be a decent human being? Like literally, would it kill you?”

“Hey, I am not blaming you. Look at her, she’s a ripe little peach ready to be plucked. And now that her dad’s out of the picture, you don’t have to worry about your old friend Han murdering you for putting the moves on his kid.” 

“Are you purposely trying to rile me up or are you just an irredeemable asshole?” 

They drive until the road ends and turn right onto a long, winding, private driveway until the car slows to a stop at the security gate. Blanc sits forward to peer out the windshield to get a better look at the ultra modern villa that Solo has rented. 

The sleek, minimalist design with its asymmetrical shape and dark concrete pillars looks out of time and out of place here in the Keys.

Poe or Hux must have called ahead because a few moments after Poe steps out of the car to buzz the house, the gate hums and slides open to admit them. Blanc glances at the security cameras beside the gate as Poe gets back into the car and drives forwards slowly. 

They park behind a black Audi Q7 that is already sitting in front of the house. 

The front door swings open as they climb out the car. A tall, imposing figure steps out of the house to greet them. 

It looks as if they’ve interrupted him in the middle of a swim. He is only clad in a pair of black swimming trunks, his long black hair is wet and sticks to his skull and Blanc sees the full length of the nasty scar running from his shoulder, across his right collarbone, neck, face to the top of his forehead.

He’d kept his face down, angled away from the cameras during his trial because Blanc hadn't seen a hint of the scar in the photos of him online. 

He spots a few other scars on his body, there’s one that looks like a stab wound on his left flank. There is also a line of matching shiny, circular burns running down his left arm. 

Blanc doesn’t see any tattoos but he has the body of an inmate who had too much spare time on his hands and too much pent up restless energy which had been channeled into strength training during his time in prison. The Ben Solo standing on the front steps of the house glowering at them is completely unrecognizable from the child in the photo in Han’s desk...except for those dark, ancient eyes. 

“Ben Solo, I’m Detective Poe Dameron from the Monroe County’s Sheriff Department, we spoke on the phone yesterday. This is my partner, Armitage Hux, and our colleague, Benoit Blanc.” 

Ben glances at Poe’s outstretched hand. Then he steps back as if he is waiting to usher them into the house. 

He’s not interested in niceties then.

Blanc surmises that Ben knows exactly why they have come to see him.

Blanc tries to scan his face for hints of grief or nerves. But it's as if his face is a smooth, impenetrable mask.

Ben takes them to the spacious living room that is sparsely decorated. The full length glass windows lining the length of the house gives a spectacular view of a large swimming pool next to a wooden patio that serves as an entertaining space in the backyard. 

The ground on the other side of the pool and patio slopes downwards to a privately owned beach. 

Raised and jagged beachrock on either side of the cove guards it from land access by the public and shadows around the entrance to the shallow basin hints at rocky reefs which would make it near impossible for boats to dock close to the shore. 

Blanc sees Poe studying the shoreline and the cove intently while Ben Solo grabs a black shirt from a couch and slips it on to cover his powerful torso which should, logically, make him seem smaller and less intimidating, but it doesn’t. 

Ben doesn’t ask them to sit, he stands there in the entrance to the living area watching them expectantly. 

Blanc folds himself into an armchair to watch as the other detectives also remain standing. The three men look like gunslingers squaring off for a gunfight. Blanc entertains himself briefly by imagining a coyote howling in the distance. 

“We’re sorry for troubling you, this must be a difficult time for you, but we have some questions for you regarding your dad and we’d appreciate it if you gave us some of your time to go through them with us.” 

Hux’s words are genial but he delivers them so robotically - it's obvious he wants Ben know that if he isn’t going to bother with any veneer of politeness then he and his partner are also going to dispense with any pretense at subtlety. 

Ben draws the first shot.

“I didn’t kill him.” He says simply. “I haven’t left this house much since I arrived. If you need to check the security footage at the gate then I will contact the owners of this place to let you know how to get access to it.” 

“We will need that.” Poe flips open his notebook to make a note. “You got here Monday?” 

“Yes.” 

“You drive down from Miami?” 

“Yes.” 

“That your car outside?” 

“Yes.” 

“Your parole officer knows you’re down here?” 

The rest of his face barely moves when he says, “Of course.” 

“What did you do when you got here on Monday?” 

“It was late. I ate. I swam for a while, and then I slept.”

“What did you do on Tuesday?” 

“I drove to the main island. Ate breakfast. Bought some groceries. Came back. Then left around eight in the evening to go Maz’s for a drink. I came back around one in the morning.” 

“What did you do at Maz’s?” 

“Drank. Ate. Saw Han. We fought.” 

“And what did you fight about?” 

“The usual things. Him being a shitty, absent father to me. He didn’t deny it. He never did. He also didn’t think my feelings on the matter were particularly important, or needed to be addressed.” 

Blanc can actually taste it on his tongue, the lifetime of bitterness this man carries within him in the cold, dispassionate way Ben Solo summarises his relationship with his father. 

“Is that why you came down here? To talk to Han?” 

“No. Contrary to what you’re thinking, I didn’t waste the last five years filling every waking moment with thoughts about Han Solo.” 

“No? Maybe Luke Skywalker then?” 

Blanc sees it, a twitch under his right eye. The first crack in his mask. 

“No. I wouldn’t say that. I’m trying to take Han’s cue. Move forward with my life.” 

“What, so you’re telling us you’re just here on vacation.” Hux pipes up. 

Ben cocks his head slightly. “Sure, isn’t that why most people come to the Keys?” 

“And what do you need a vacation from? You employed?” 

Ben had been disbarred by the Florida Bar a few months after his conviction. It had been a sad endnote to his spectacular fall from grace. 

Ben Solo, only son of Leia Organa and Han Solo had graduated summa cum laude from Harvard Law school at 24 years old, he'd been an Associate to several Federal Court Judges before joining a top law firm and quickly established a reputation as a brilliant and ruthless attorney. 

His meteoric rise had been cut short only three years later when he’d been charged with perjury for lying under oath to the FBI. The sentencing judge had thrown the book at him; even though Ben had been young and had no previous record, the judge considered his occupation as an officer of the Court and the oath he had taken to uphold the law meant his conduct was particularly egregious. He’d been sentenced to five years with possibility of parole after two years. 

Ben had been released after twenty-four months, he had about seven months of his sentence left to serve. 

It begged the question, why would he come here now? After all this time had passed? 

“I’m not working at the moment, no. I’m between jobs right now. It’s not that easy for an ex-con to get a steady job.” 

“I don’t know,” Poe says, eyebrows raised, “Doesn’t look to me like you’re doing too bad.” 

There's an extended pause before Ben says finally, “Oh. I was waiting for a question.”

Blanc realises suddenly, that Ben is _enjoying_ himself. 

Poe and Hux must sense it too. Poe’s eyes narrow. “What did you do on Wednesday?” 

“I stayed in.” 

“What, all day?” 

“Sure.” 

“And Thursday?” 

“I went out to get some supplies, got a coffee, and walked around town. I drove home about three in the afternoon. Stayed home all night.” 

“And Friday?” 

“I got your call in the morning. I drove into town and got a bottle of bourbon. I came back and drank it. Then I spent most of the afternoon puking it back up. I think I called Maz at some point and said I’d pay her whatever she wanted if she brought me some of her coconut shrimp and another bottle of anything I could drink. I don’t remember much after that.” 

Nobody says anything for a while. Then Hux asks, “You mind if we take a look around?” 

“You got a warrant?” 

“Nope.” 

“Then yeah, I mind.” 

Poe snaps his notebook closed and says, “People at the bar on Tuesday night says at some point Han tried to grab your arm as you were leaving, and you screamed at him, ‘ _Don’t come near me or I’ll finish what I started last time,_ ’ Is that correct?” 

“I could have. Sometimes it's hard to remember things I say or do when I’m angry.” 

“What did you mean by it? That you'd ‘ _finish what you started last time_.’” 

“You’re not going to get a confession out of me Dameron. I didn’t kill Han Solo.” 

“But you hated your dad. You tried to kill him five years ago.” 

“I never hated him.” Ben says, his tone cool, almost dismissive, as if the word hate is too simplistic a distillation of the churning, tangled, emotions he has regarding his father. 

“He cared for me. But he never fought for me. When things got hard he dumped me on my mother or my nannies and ran back here to bury his head in the sand.” 

“Yes, and then he replaced you with another child, didn’t he?” 

Ben’s head jerks towards Blanc at the sound of his voice, as if he’d forgotten that he was there in the room with them. 

“I suppose he did.” Ben concedes, after a moment. 

Blanc unfolds himself from his chair so he can look him in the eye and continues, “And when Han’s closest friend signs off on your charges and made damned sure you didn’t get any kind of reduced plea deal, Han doesn’t do anything to help you does he? 

Han doesn’t offer to go talk to Luke for you. He just - stands by and lets Luke send you off to rot in prison and _then_ the most insulting part is that Han invites Luke down here to help him run his cozy little Inn like it’s a reward for helping him get rid of his son. 

Han gets rid of you _and_ he gets a shiny new daughter, a feral little creature, barely half-tamed that he plucked straight from the gutter that he finds preferable to his own son. Isn’t that right?” 

The words seem to ignite him. 

Ben’s eyes, blazing with animal fury, drill into him. And it lasts long enough for Blanc’s heartbeat to speed up and the skin on his back to break into a fine sweat. 

_Ah,_ Blanc thinks. _There you are._

And then the veil drops back down over those terrible eyes. The mask is smooth and impenetrable once more. 

“Luke isn’t the one who got me sent to prison.” Ben says flatly. “It was me. I got myself in there.” 

There’s not much to say after that. 

Poe pauses as he passes Ben. “I’ll contact your parole officer and let him know you won’t be leaving town until this investigation is over.” 

Ben doesn’t respond, he watches them leave impassively. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [@MindyCakes](https://twitter.com/mindycakes)on Twitter and @wantisamlindyla on Tumblr. Come say hi!


	3. In which Benoit Blanc unearths some skeletons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some tags since there is some frank discussion of autopsy results in this chapter, nothing you wouldn't see on a law and order episode but better safe than sorry.
> 
> This was supposed to be up this past weekend, I am sorry, I got distracted and wrote a Mermaid AU. Go check it out if you haven't already.

Blanc arrives at the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office at precisely nine o’clock on Monday morning, dressed smartly in a beige and white linen houndstooth suit, black tie and a handsome polka dot pocket square; he breezes into the building. 

Hux and Poe are huddled around another officer’s computer as he enters the bullpen. 

“Look, Phasma, zoom in - in - no, you just went back out, closer - there! Look, see, you could land a plane there. It depends on which way the wind is going and the time of the day-” 

“There’s nowhere to dock it. You couldn’t leave it there; it’ll smash itself into the reef!” 

“The waves don’t get into the basin. The water’s very calm. The worst that could happen is it just bumps up against the reef.” 

Blanc clears his throat when it becomes clear that Poe, Hux and the blonde uniformed officer are too involved in their conversation to notice his arrival. 

“Oh, Benny, hey” Poe gives him a distracted clap on the shoulder.

He and Hux look dishevelled and exhausted - as if they haven’t slept since he saw them two days ago. Poe turns back to the computer screen where Google Earth is opened on an aerial view of the beach behind Ben Solo’s rental villa. 

“You mentioned on the phone that the toxicology and autopsy report came in?” 

“Uh-yeah.” 

Poe heads over to his messy desk and grabs a buff-colored folder; however, before they get a chance to talk, they are interrupted by a tall woman with long blonde hair striding past who calls out, “Dameron, Hux, debrief! Now.” 

“Shit,” Poe mutters and turns to him. “Holdo wants to meet right now. You mind sitting in with us?” 

*** 

The Sheriff, Amylin Holdo, commands a room with barely any effort; she waits behind her desk as Blanc, Hux, and Poe file into her office. 

She reaches out to shake Blanc’s hand. “Welcome to Monroe County, Mr Blanc, it’s real kind of you to take an interest in this case.”

“Oh no, it’s no-” 

“However,” Holdo continues as if Blanc hadn’t said anything, “if you, at any point, get in the way of this investigation or become a nuisance to my detectives, I’m not going to hesitate kicking you out on your ass no matter how many pretentious publications have written about you, we understand each other?” 

“Oh.” Blanc smiles politely. “Perfectly.”

He proceeds to make himself appear as meek and unobtrusive as possible as he takes a seat in one of the chairs in the back of the office. 

“The reports came in this morning,” Poe begins. “The tox report indicated that the victim had ingested alcohol maybe two to three hours before his death. Everything else came back clear.” 

“How much alcohol?” Holdo asks, leaning back in her chair languidly, crossing her long legs. 

“Reading was just over the limit. But I’ve been on benders with Han before; that’s nowhere near enough alcohol to get Han tipsy, let alone stop him from piloting the Falcon properly.” 

“Is that your professional opinion, Detective?” There’s a hint of disapproval in Holdo’s voice. 

Hux quickly butts in before Poe can retort. “It’s not the tox report we should be discussing. The autopsy report was highly irregular.” 

Holdo nods for him to continue. “The ME found extensive internal damage inside the body. There were lacerations on the intestines, stomach and liver, a couple of broken ribs and a hole in the left atrium of his heart.

"The rest of the internal damage indicates he was viciously beaten, but the cause of death would have been a severe blow to the chest, severe enough to cause lethal damage. He said this kind of internal damage is the kind he usually sees in crash victims.” 

“So it is more likely he was physically beaten to death? Or more likely he died from impact, like say, falling from a great height after being beaten?” 

“ME isn’t ruling anything out,” Poe responds, “but the weirdest thing?” He drops a photo onto Holdo’s desk. “No bruising on the external body whatsoever.” 

Blanc opens the folder that Hux hands him; there are photographs taken of Han’s torso from the autopsy - the skin is clear and perfect. Not a bruise, not a nick, not a single patch of discoloration. 

“The only external bruises or cuts the ME found were a laceration in his right scrotum; the external bruising spread through the whole groin area right up to his hip.” 

Holdo absorbs this intriguing development without a change in her facial expression; her eyes study the photographs. 

“Any luck on locating the plane yet?” Holdo asks finally, putting the photo back down. “Or even a piece of it at least?” 

“We’ve put out the calls. But according to Luke, Han installed an emergency locator beacon on the Falcon a few years ago - the locator should have activated upon impact. We’ve checked, and emergency services have confirmed no beacon was sent out that night.” 

“So what’s the working theory right now? You went out and interviewed Solo on Saturday. You get anything from him?” 

“I went out there yesterday to check the security footage from the gate,” Hux offers. “The footage does show his car entering the gate at around three in the afternoon the day before Han’s body was found. The car doesn't leave again until the next morning around ten. The windows are tinted though, so you can’t see into the vehicle as it comes and goes.” 

“Regardless, the alibi looks pretty airtight, doesn’t it?” 

“Well,” Poe starts. Hux shoots Poe a warning look, but Poe forges on ahead heedlessly. 

“We’re working on another theory; Han left in a seaplane. The property Solo is staying in, we’re pretty sure a plane could have landed in the basin. And yeah, Chief, that is my professional opinion,” Poe says snarkily, reminding the room of his experience as a pilot in the air-force. 

“So, what do you think happened? Han goes to see his son in the plane, the two argue, fight, Ben Solo beats his dad to death and then takes the seaplane to dump the body somewhere?” 

“Solo has a pilot’s licensee,” Hux offers. “He hasn’t renewed it for a couple of years, but he can fly a plane.” 

“Right,” Holdo says skeptically, raising one eyebrow. “And how exactly does he get back to the house without being caught on camera? No car, no plane. He swam back?” 

“Like we said,” Poe says defensively, “it’s a working theory. Chief, we need to get a warrant to the premises. We need to check his phone for his movements the night Han went missing. Maybe he had help.”

Holdo sighs, “You guys see any fresh bruises or scratches on his arms or face? Some sign he was in a fight recently?” 

Blanc recalls Ben's scarred upper body. He had greeted them without a shirt on, and his arms and torso had been clear of marks. 

Poe clears his throat. “No,” he admits. “Didn’t look like it.” 

Holdo leans back in her chair, surveying her two detectives for a long, uncomfortable moment. 

“You have: no confirmed cause of death,” she says, starting to list each item off with her fingers, “no murder weapon, no murder scene, no way of proving the suspect was anywhere near the victim around the time of death. You both know how this works. No probable cause, no warrant.” 

Hux looks like he’s just taken a bite out of a lemon. Poe’s mutinous expression seems to suggest he is about to leap out of the room to find a judge to issue him a warrant despite his superior officer’s comments. 

“It’s time to start looking somewhere else. What other leads are you following up on?” 

  
  


*** 

“She’s going to rule this out as a plane crash if we don’t find something soon.” Hux says irritably once they are back in the car, driving down the highway towards Smuggler’s Cove once again. 

“She can’t do anything yet.” Poe responds, his voice tight with frustration. “Not until we find the Falcon.”

Blanc is in the backseat, flipping through the file.

Blanc sighs. “None of this makes a lick of sense. Take the bruising in the groin,” he continues to his imaginary captive audience, even though nobody in the car is paying him any attention. 

“Someone would have had to have kicked him hard in that area, repeatedly, to cause that kind of damage. And whomever did it must have done it in a fit of rage, why there, why not the head? You know why? Most likely it's because _it’s personal_ , he’s trying to humiliate Han, emasculate him.” 

“But what about the rest of his body, what about the chest area? Han was hit so hard in the upper body that it broke a few ribs and burst a hole in his heart. But no bruising to the skin at all. Not even a mark. It’s…perplexing.”

He turns his attention back to the two detectives quietly fuming in the front seats. “When did Leia get in?” 

“This morning.” Poe replies shortly. “The ME released the body already. They’re having the service tomorrow.” 

“Doesn’t leave much time to get things organized.” 

“Leia’s got her people on top of it.” 

“Well what do you think, Blanc?” Hux asks suddenly. “What’s your impression of Solo? Do you think he's our guy or are we wasting our time with him?” 

Blanc is momentarily taken aback by the fact that Hux is asking him for his opinion, but he replies readily, “The way I see it, there are two possibilities if Ben Solo is indeed the murderer.

"Firstly, The murder was planned. Or the other possibility- it was not.

"If Ben Solo spent his time in prison meticulously planning a murder, there’s no way he would be the prime suspect right now. It’s too sloppy. Careless even. And he strikes me as a highly intelligent person. He could make it look like an accident if he wanted.

"So, if it was not planned, and it happened in a fit of rage, then that fits with the bruisin' on Han’s groin. But what about the internal damage? Han would have fought back. There were no marks on him when we saw him on Saturday. 

"Furthermore, what happened to the Falcon? Where is it?

"It’s like we’re trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle,” Blanc muses aloud. “But the edges of the pieces are all shaped like circles.” 

Nobody responds and the car falls into silence, each of them lost in thought. 

*** 

Leia Organa looks exhausted as she sits down for an interview with them. 

She is smaller than she appears on television and the fine lines on her face are more visible. But Blanc can still see the great beauty she had been in her youth in her features. 

She is wholly impressive, dignified and collected. 

Blanc recognizes her dark eyes. The same as her son’s. 

The house is bustling, her personal assistants are speaking loudly and demandingly into their phones about catering and flower arrangements. Finn and some burly guys in fluro vests are hauling white folding chairs and tables down to the beach to set up neat rows chairs. 

The sky is overcast and grey. A strong gust of wind knocks over a few chairs at the end of the row closest to Finn. 

“Secretary Organa,” Hux says, “We’re sorry to have to trouble you, we just wanted to ask you some quick questions and we’ll be out of your hair.” 

“Of course.” 

“When was the last time you spoke to Han?” 

“We talked on Wednesday. He called me and asked me to come down here for a visit. He kept saying he had something important to tell me. I told him I couldn’t drop everything just like that. I had meetings and fundraising events to attend this weekend. I’m in the middle of running for governor in New York.” 

Poe and Hux exchange looks while Leia keeps speaking, her eyes are red and her voice croaky even if she appears composed. 

“He was so insistent, and then for some reason, he started getting angry. He started re-litigating our separation - saying things like I never made time for anything that was important to anyone, especially the family.

"I got angry so I hung up on him. I didn’t think he’d be so stupid to go and get himself killed just to get the last word.” She lets out a hollow laugh. 

“So you don’t know what he wanted you to come down for?” 

She shakes her head. “No clue.” 

“Could it have been about your son?” Poe asks delicately. 

A shadow falls over her face. “I don’t think so.” She says, “Han stopped talking to me about him around the same time...the same time Han’s leg was injured.”

_By our son._ The unspoken words ring loudly in the room. 

“And when was the last time you spoke to Ben?” Hux asks. 

“It’s been some time. Maybe around the time he started law school.” 

“Why is that?” 

Leia says, “Old wounds.” 

Neither Poe nor Hux seem willing to press her on her vague answer. 

Luke enters the dining room where they are seated around the huge table. He hands Leia a mug of coffee. 

Leia takes it with a small sound of thanks. Blanc watches as Luke places a hand on her shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze. Leia seems to draw strength from his presence, she sits up a little straighter. 

Luke stays by her side as Poe and Hux finish their interview, then he asks them if they want to stay for a quick lunch, offers them coffee and some sandwiches which gladly Poe accepts. 

Hux leaves the room to make a call and Blanc wanders into the kitchen where Luke is speaking to Artoo. 

“Do you have a moment?”

Luke crooks an eyebrow at him. “Dig up more old court files on me?” He asks sardonically. 

Blanc smiles a little ruefully, “Not exactly.”

The head out to the porch where they had sat during their last visit. They walk down the steps towards the edge of the water where their words can be drowned out by the crash of the waves and the cold wind whipping past them.

“Ben is your nephew.” Blanc says, dropping the bomb without warning. 

Luke doesn't react at first, his eyebrows are drawn tight and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Blanc wonders if he is going to try to deny it. 

“There are,” he begins, very quietly, “countless journalists, politicians, corporate donors, not to mention the many enemies that Leia and I have made during our careers that would kill for proof of that information.”

“Oh, I have no intention of taking that information to anybody.” Blanc assures him. “I’m only interested in it so far as it pertains to this investigation.”

Luke swallows, “You understand then why we never made it public. My father - well, I’m assuming if you managed to get this far then you’ve read my book.”

“Oh yes,” Blanc assures him, “A friend of mine sent me a copy when it came out. I was absolutely enthralled by it.”

Luke’s father, Anakin Skywalker, had been a disgraced federal judge accused but acquitted of the attempted murder his wife, Padme Naberrie. He had taken his own life at the age of sixty, dying alone in his palatial mansion in Los Angeles. 

But Luke’s book, published eight years ago had set out years and years of meticulous research and painstakingly compiled evidence to posit that his father had been the serial killer known only as ‘Death Vader’ since 1940, whose identity remained unsolved until this very day and was widely believed to be responsible for the horrific unsolved murders of at least sixty children across the States. 

“Did you always know?” Blanc asks him, as they stand at the water's edge, watching the tide ebb and flow. 

“No. My uncle and aunt raised me. They told me both my parents were dead. When I finished school I got recruited into the State Department by old Ben Kenobi. He used to be a spook for the FBI, he and Hoover arrested communists together in the twenties. 

"He and my father had been good friends...until they weren’t. 

"The FBI had Anakin on their top suspect list for years. They tapped his phones. They had plenty of damning recordings of him talking casually about his crimes, but they never did anything about it.”

Blanc tries to imagine it. The shock of discovering who your true parents were. Then finding out that one of them was still alive, and had most likely caused the death of your own mother as well as countless other innocent children. To know the blood of a monster ran through your own veins. How did such knowledge both shape and ruin a person? 

“When did Leia find out?” 

“Not until much later, you know we actually went on a date once? She asked me out in front of Han - to make him jealous. 

"After I dropped her off she told me she thought I was sweet and all but kissing me was like kissing a brother.”

Blanc chuckles along with Luke before the mood turns somber once more. 

“But that was before I found all those records, before Ben Kenobi told me everything about our father and about Leia. Leia went straight up to LA when I told her. She wanted to confront him. Wanted to look him in the face and ask him if he’d murdered our mother.

"He locked her in a room in his house for a few days. His mind, by then- he was deteriorating fast, they said it was a brain tumor. He kept calling her our mother’s name and Leia...when we finally found her and got her out of there - I’d never seen her so terrified. Never have since.

"Life eventually moved on. Leia and Han got married. And they were happy. For a time. Then her son came along...and she told me she kept seeing our father in him. 

"She told me that she was frightened for him. And also of him.

"So Ben came to live with me when he was fifteen. He never forgave Han and Leia for sending him away. But Leia was always so busy, and Han was always running back here to relive his glory days.” 

Luke lifts his head to look directly at Blanc, his eyes filled with anguish. “Leia trusted me with her son. And I loved him like my own.'' He says this like it's vital that Blanc knows it. 

“You know the kid was going to run off and join the air-force? He applied to law school because he idolized _me_. Luke Skywalker. The legend. The State Attorney who fearlessly prosecuted the Hutt Clan Crime Syndicate and got Jabba sent away for life. 

"But...I kept seeing it. The same thing Leia saw in him. And I was in the middle of writing my book and my head was filled with all that crap, day in day out, which probably didn’t help. 

"We hid the truth from Ben, Leia and I. We didn’t want him to know. He only knew me as his parents’ best friend. 

"But when he was twenty, he came to my house for a visit when he was home from college- he saw my notes in my office, he read my manuscript - he put it all together and realized why his mother had treated him the way she had. Why I had sometimes looked at him the way I did. He left the family. Refused to have anything to do with us. 

"He got himself a full ride to Harvard and then after that got himself involved with the worse dregs of humanity at Snoke’s firm.

"I started hearing rumors. Things about what was happening at the FBI and the investigations into Snoke. I just thought he was smart enough to keep his nose clean. But the Feds had an informant sitting in a meeting wearing a wire while they all sat around talking about Snoke’s dirty deals with the Saudis and illegal wire transfers from Russia. 

"Ben was hauled in for an interview. Got himself charged for lying on oath to the FBI.

"I took the case myself. I thought I could do some good. I kept telling Ben and his lawyers to take a goddamn deal. Give us everything he had on Snoke. But Ben refused. Didn’t give us any reason. Just rejected every offer we made him. 

"Snoke got off, now he’s running for public office and Ben lost everything.” 

Neither of them speak for a while, Luke looks weary, bone-tired. 

“Do you think he’s still involved with Snoke now? A reward for him keeping his silence?” Blanc asks at last. “The place he is renting is excessive for an ex-con without a job.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what he’s like anymore. I don’t know what prison did to him. Looking back on it, maybe it was _my fault,_ if it hadn't been me on the other side of the table. Maybe he would have taken the deal. 

But I didn’t think it through because I was the _great Luke Skywalker_. 

I thought I could be the one to save him. To turn him back to the light.”

Luke’s voice is dripping contempt, for himself, for what had happened between him and his nephew. And underlying it all, Blanc senses a great deal of shame and regret. A lifetime’s worth. 

There’s nothing left to say after that, the chill in the wind has turned to a cold bite, Blanc notices Luke shivering so they start to make their way back to the house. 

“How’d you find out anyways?” Luke asks him. 

“I didn’t really know for sure. You and Leia have the same nose, but that’s about it. 

"It was the photos Han had of you both hanging in his study. It kept bothering me. A little thought rolling around my head prodding at me, like a rock in my shoe- how familiar and close the two of you looked. And then I found that photograph of your mother in your book, Leia favours her.” 

Luke stares at him in mingled outrage and disbelief. “That’s it?!” 

“I have a nose for these things.” Blanc says primly, “Well, and the fact that the two of you happened to have the same birth date. 

"Also, last year Leia hosted a hospital benefit for Our Lady of Mercy and she said in her opening speech how the benefit meant a great deal to her because she had been born there. I found the transcript of her speech on the hospital’s website. 

"The same hospital was listed on your birth certificate. The same one your mother died in only a few days later.” 

Blanc is a little gratified when Luke looks impressed despite himself.

*** 

Blanc goes for a walk after Luke returns to the house to try and clear his head. 

The confirmation by Luke of his familial relationship with the Solos raised more questions than it did answers. 

Did Ben Solo possess the same darkness within him that mother and uncle had feared so terribly? The sole heir of a bloody legacy, a progeny of pure evil. 

And if he wasn’t? Well then the story painted a tragic portrait of a child betrayed and abandoned by those around him, a family too caught up with the trauma of its own past at the child’s expense. 

And was it possible he was both these things? The ruined child and the monster?

It was easy to imagine that child had grown up into an angry and vengeful man. A man who had returned to wreak havoc and ruin on all those who had ever wronged him. 

Blanc wouldn't be who he was if he wasn't an excellent judge of a person’s character. He usually gets a good grasp on a person after a first meeting. 

But Ben Solo had hidden his own emotions so well, one could have assumed he was a cold unfeeling automaton - except for that moment when the mask had slipped and his eyes had flashed with untamed rage and fury. 

Blanc was lost in his own thoughts as he passed a large shed, kayaks and jet skis stored on top of a trailer out the front which, he gathered, must have meant it was the equipment shed.

As Blanc walked past, he heard a sound. A sob. Followed by a low moan like an animal in distress. 

He rounded the shed curiously. 

It was Rey. 

The young woman was sitting on the ground, her legs drawn up so she could rest her head on her arms as she wept. 

Blanc immediately tried to reverse course and leave before she spotted him, but in his haste he turned around and immediately walked straight into the tin wall of the shed. 

“Ow! Goddamn!” 

Rey’s head snapped up. They stared at one another. Her startled face wet with snot and tears, him rubbing his bruised forehead apologetically. 

“I am - I am very sorry Miss Rey. I didn’t mean to intrude on your...on your privacy.”

“It’s ok,” Rey sniffs, pushing up the sleeves of her jumper over her hands to wipe at her eyes and nose. Blanc hurriedly pulled a folded square of white linen from an inner pocket to offer it to her. 

She stared for a moment before reaching out to take it. “Wow.” She said, “I don’t think anyone’s ever given me a handkerchief before. Look it's even monogrammed with your initials.”

“Oh, just old habits, something my mamma always insisted on was us carrying around a clean handkerchief just in case the need arose.” 

She blows her nose, the loud honking noise makes him suppress a smile. 

“Is there- is there anything else I could do for you while I’m here?” Blanc asks, not wishing to leave her here all alone, crying in the dirt. 

Rey considers it, and then she gestures to the ground beside her. Blanc manages not to wince as he lowers himself to the ground, crossing his legs indian style and trying to not think about the damage the wet dirt and sand would do to his bespoke suit. 

“Han’s funeral is tomorrow.” She says, looking at her hands. 

“I’m sorry.” Blanc says sincerely. Blanc found he felt a lot of compassion for Rey. She had endured too much during her younger tender years and had finally found a home only to have fate cruelly snatch it away from her once more. 

He had been impressed by her poise while being questioned by Hux. She had appeared much more seasoned and self-possessed than a girl of only twenty-one years. But now, with her tear stained face and her body engulfed in an oversized jumper, she seemed to him little more than a child. 

She seems to struggle with something for a moment, before she asks, “Is it true, what everyone is saying, the police are going to arrest Ben Solo for killing Han?

“We’re not supposed to be talking about an ongoing investigation.” Blanc replies gravely. “But I can divulge that we’re a long ways from arresting anyone. The…cause of death hasn’t been confirmed.” 

She looks away, a few tears slip down her face. “Can you- can you at least tell me if - if he suffered? Was he - in a lot of pain when it happened?” 

“We’re not sure yet. I’m sorry.” He says again, feeling a little helpless in the face of her grief. 

They both sit in silence for a moment, while Rey tries to catch her breath. 

“Whoever did this to Han.” She blurts out suddenly with a fierce look on her face, “They’re going to _pay_ for what they did.”

“Rey,” Blanc says in concern, “You mustn't, you mustn't do anything rash. Leave the investigation up to Poe and trust the police to do what needs to be done.”

“What do you think I am going to do?”

“We saw Ben Solo on Saturday. I’ve seen with my own eyes the scar you gave him.”

She lets out a shuddering breath. A few tears leak out of her eyes again.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “Every time someone brings him up I-,” she scrubs at her face with the handkerchief. 

“I get so _angry_. He meant everything to Han. I know he did. Even if Han never talked about him to anyone.”

Blanc waits with bated breath, hoping she’ll say more. 

“Han- Han really tried. To make it up to him, after he left the family. We went up to his law firm once, when I was fourteen, I think Han was trying to get him to leave that place and come home with him.”

Blanc turns to look at her, curious. “So you knew him then, before?” 

Rey shakes her head, staring down at her hands. “No, I only saw him the one time before - before I gave him that scar.”

"We just showed up at the office and he wasn’t expecting us because he said something to Han like, ‘ _Did mom put you up to this?_ ’ 

"I waited for them in his office while they went to talk in another room. He had this little plaque on his desk with a gold coin stuck to it and I kept staring at it. When Ben finally came back he caught me looking at the coin. 

"It was a Spanish doubloon recovered from a shipwreck. 

"One of his clients was an art collector and gave it to him as a gift. He asked me if I wanted to keep it and he - just gave it to me. 

"I was obsessed with it. I kept asking Han questions about it, where it came from, what the patterns meant, why would have ended up in a shipwreck. Han had to start buying me books about spanish gold and deep sea treasure hunting to shut me up.” 

“And then you grew up and got certified as a deep sea diver so you could go treasure hunting?” Blanc guesses. 

She shrugs. “He was kind to me that day.” Rey says sadly, “He didn’t have to be. But he was.” 

“But he wasn’t being especially kind the next time you saw him was he? Not to Han.”

“I don’t really think he was trying to kill Han.” Rey says. Blanc stares at her in surprise. It's the first anybody has given a different perspective as to what happened that night five years ago. 

“I think he was just hurting. And he wanted Han to hurt the same way he was hurting.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Benoit's fancy suit for this chapter](https://www.esquireme.com/sites/default/files/images/2019/09/11/James-Bond-Summer-Suit-%281%29.jpg)
> 
> Comment below! Give me your theories! I love reading them, they give me life.


	4. In which Benoit Blanc gets a blast from the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe so much to my wonderful beta : [tmwillson3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmwillson3). Thank you so much for staying up late to correct my terrible use of commas and discussing plot points with me! You are an absolute goddess!

On the morning of Han Solo’s funeral, Blanc gets out of bed before the sun rises. 

He hadn’t slept well. His dreams were filled with dreams of children’s corpses and seaplanes plummeting into the ocean. 

There had been another child too - long, black hair, and blazing eyes watching him from the dark corner of the room until he jerked awake, covered in sweat, his eyes darting to the corners of his hotel room to make sure he was alone. 

He heads downstairs for a swim in the pool, and then goes back to his room to dress in an austere black three-piece suit with a single-breasted waistcoat, and a silk black tie before heading downstairs for breakfast. 

The hotel puts out a decent Contiental breakfast spread, but Blanc hasn’t had the opportunity to enjoy the bountiful offerings since he took on the case of Han Solo’s murder, preferring to have breakfast delivered to his room while he worked. 

It was still quite early so the dining room is quiet, except for a few other early risers like himself. He orders an omelette and a black coffee, and sits down with his book, hoping to relax and, reward himself with a few chapters before he needs to leave for the funeral. 

His hopes are dashed, however, when a tall, striking woman with blonde, wavy hair drops into the empty seat across the table from him. 

“Detective Blanc,” She says, “fancy running into you here!” 

“Joni Thrombey?” Blanc says, in astonishment. 

Joni looks the same as he last saw her, only that it is quite apparent that she has recently been the victim of some cosmetic procedure gone awry. Her reddened face looks badly sunburnt, and there are blisters and scarring on parts of her jaw and cheekbones where the skin has already started to heal. 

She beams back at him. He doesn’t know how to feel about her warm greeting given how they had last parted, but then she says, “Oh, it's not Thrombey anymore.” She flashes an ostentatious diamond ring on her left hand at him, and he relaxes. 

“Oh, congratulations are in order then.” Blanc can’t help but admire Joni for landing on her feet so quickly. “I’m assuming you’re here on your honeymoon?” 

“No, no, this is just a vacation. I - um - really needed to get out of the city for a few weeks; Din wanted to go diving. Meg is still in Nepal, and she won’t be back for Christmas so we decided to come to the Keys.” 

Blanc has been brought up with better manners than to ask whether her reddened face has something to do with why she had to leave town so suddenly.

“Meg hasn’t gone back to college?” 

“Oh well, after the, you know,” Joni waves a hand vaguely, to refer to the unfortunate events of her nephew-in-law’s attempted murder of his grandfather, his successful murder of the family housekeeper, the entire family being disinherited, and the fortune being bequeathed to an outsider. “Meg wanted to take a few semesters off to go backpacking in Asia. She’s helping to build an orphanage in Nepal right now.” 

They are interrupted by the waiter bringing Blanc’s omelette and coffee. Joni takes two little glass jars of something labelled “Flam’s Dragon Herbs Gynostemma” and “Solar Elixir herbs” from her handbag and passes it to the waiter, giving instructions for the Gynostemma to be brewed first, before being set aside to cool for two minutes, before combining the tea, the Solar Elixir Herbs, cinnamon and almond milk in a blender.

The waiter leaves them, holding out the glass jars in front of him as if they are bombs ready to explode as Joni explains to Blanc that its her morning inner peace brew. 

Blanc notices that Joni isn’t dressed in her usual boho chic style; instead of a flowing dress she is wearing a silk black blouse, and black trousers. 

“Do you have a business meeting, or a conference call?” he asked, gesturing to her outfit. 

“Oh, God no, I wouldn’t wear this to a conference call. What would they think? No, Din and I are going to a funeral later today. We were staying at this Inn on the main island last week until the owner died, so we had to check in here. It’s nice and all, but the other place was much more private. Din was really looking forward to his diving lessons.”

“You’re going to Han Solo’s funeral today?” Blanc’s astonishment is back. “You were staying at Smuggler’s Inn last week?”

“Well, yeah.” Joni answers as if he is slow. But the next moment she takes in Blanc’s attire and his words, and her eyes flash with understanding.”

“ _Oh. My. God_ .” Her jaw drops. “Don’t tell me, _you’re_ investigating this one, too?”

“I’m just consulting. As a favor for a friend.”

“Wow.” She leans back in her seat. “Small world. So. Have you cracked it yet? You know everyone here thinks it was Han’s son?”

“How did you-,” Blanc sighs, gives up on his omelette and reaches for his coffee, tearing open sugar packets and pouring them into the black liquid. “I can't talk about an ongoing investigation, but we haven’t arrested anyone yet.”

The waiter comes back with a tall glass of something green and noxious-looking that he sets down before Joni. “Oh that looks _perfect,”_ she says, thanking the waiter effusively.

She takes a drink; then she gives Blanc a smug look. “Well, you’re lucky you ran into me then. I’m gonna help you catch the killer of this case.”

Blanc crooks an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t have said anything, just left it to the authorities. But _obviously_ you need a push in the correct direction. Just remember to give me all the credit the next time they interview you for the article. And mention my company too? Nobody mentioned I was the founder of Flam in your Vanity Fair article. Total missed opportunity.”

“What is it you think you know, Joni?”

“Well.” She sets the glass of her green goo down and straightens. “I am assuming, you have already checked the will to find who gains the most in the event of Han’s death.”

Blanc blinks. In fact, they had not.

“Why?”

“Oh come on! Seriously?” Joni rolls her eyes. 

“This is a very different case to Harlon, Joni.” Blanc attempts to explain, but she interrupts him. 

“I _have_ read Agatha Christie you know. Well I mean, I watched some of the BBC adaptations, and the motives for murder are always either sex, revenge, or, money. Isn't it?”

“That’s an oversimplification, but in this case-”

“Everyone is distracted by the son, but nobody’s looking at Han’s daughter, the diving instructor. She wasn’t home the night Han died.”

“Who, Rey?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the ‘p.’ 

“I was on the porch getting myself set up for my sunrise meditation on Thursday morning. Rey ran into me as she was heading back into the house. She was really surprised to see me there. Acted all guilty that she’d been caught sneaking back into the house. Then a few hours later the police showed up to announce they’d found Han’s body. It was such,” she takes a deep breath before letting it out, “a _total_ drag.” 

Blanc frantically searches his memory for evidence collected on Rey’s whereabouts the night Han left and never came home. He realizes nobody actually asked her where she had been. Luke and Finn had only said she had been in her room when they got back from their tour. 

Had they just assumed she was? Or had they been covering up for her? 

“She could have been out doing anything,” Blanc points out. “Maybe she has a boyfriend she was stepping out with.”

“Yeah. But then I overheard that argument she had with Han on Tuesday night.”

Blanc’s stomach drops. “Argument?”

“It was past midnight. I left my room for a walk since everyone was already asleep, and I was avoiding people because of-” She makes a circle with her finger at her reddened and blistered face.

Blanc nods, encouraging her to go on. 

“So anyways, I walk past the equipment shed. I heard raised voices, and I realized it was Han and Rey screaming at each other. I heard Rey yelling, ' _Stop treating me like a child_.’”

“And then Han said, ‘ _You are a child! You’re not old enough to make your own decisions. I’m warning you, you leave this island, and you don’t ever come back. You’ll be dead to me. I’ll throw you out with the clothes on your back, and I will cut you off - you understand me?’_

“Rey came storming out of the shed, and I had to leave to avoid being caught eavesdropping.”

Blanc is stunned. “Han actually said, ‘ _I’ll throw you out with the clothes on your back?_ ’ Are you absolutely positive he said that, Joni?”

She nods. “One hundred percent.” 

Then her eyes slide over to Blanc’s book sitting forgotten next to his abandoned omelette. “Ooh, I’ve heard of that one!” she says excitedly, as if she has already forgotten what they had been discussing. “I retweeted a link to a review of that book. They said it was this century’s _Crime and Punishment_.”

***

When they arrive at the Inn, the place is teeming with people dressed in black, huddled together, speaking in low voices as they wait for the service to begin. 

Blanc takes Luke aside to ask him whether Han had left a will. 

“He made one a few years ago. The original copy is with me,” Luke tells him. “Han appointed me executor. The main asset is the business. We set it up as a partnership when I came on board. His share, along with his interest in the property, and everything else goes to Rey.” 

“How much is the estate worth?” 

Luke pauses, studying him intently. He is wearing a weary expression when he replies, “Han has plenty of debts I’ll need to settle. But after paying out the creditors, maybe, just under three million dollars.” 

“On Wednesday night,” Blanc says urgently, unnerved by the size of Rey’s inheritance, “the night you said that you and Finn took the dolphin diving tour out and came back around seven o’clock. You said Rey was in her room. You checked in on her?” 

Luke doesn’t answer for a long time, then says, “You’re barking up the wrong tree here, Blanc.” 

“Help me then. Help me rule her out. You saw her? In her room when you came home that night?” 

Luke’ s eyes flicker past Blanc’s shoulder, and then he says loudly, “Lando, you made it.” He brushes past him to greet the guest. 

**

Blanc hovers at the back of the crowd that gathers to listen to Leia speak on the small podium which had been erected overnight. There are perhaps nearly a hundred people present. It’s an impressive turnout for a funeral which had only been put together in the last twenty-four hours. 

Leia’s features are tight with grief, but her voice is clear and steady as she begins her eulogy. 

“ _Han fancied himself a scoundrel. But he wasn’t. He loved freedom - for himself, certainly, but for everyone else too. And time after time, he was willing to fight for that freedom. He didn’t want to know the odds in that fight - because he’d already made up his mind that he’d prevail. And time after time, somehow, he did_.” 

Blanc can see Rey sitting in the front row. Finn and Luke are sitting next to her, bracketing her between them. 

He had noticed how Finn had guided her to her seat like she was a lost little lamb before the ceremony began, hovering by her side in case she needed anything. 

And then Luke and Finn had had a quick conversation off to one side, Finn glancing around to look at Blanc as Luke spoke to him urgently. 

_They are going to close off ranks against him now_ . Blanc thinks. _To shield and spare Rey from any unnecessary grief or unwarranted suspicion during the rest of this investigation_. 

He watches the young woman’s profile; she looks polished and mature today. Dressed in a long-line blazer and pants, her hair has been straightened, and she has donned dark red lipstick as if to distract from her pale, tired face. 

_Had it all been just an act?_ Blanc wondered. _Her grief over Han’s death? Her questions as to whether Han had suffered before it happened?_

Blanc’s instinct screams at him, no. 

But another voice in his head, the voice that has been working this job for far too long, points out that if someone was guilty and wanted to know if another person was about to be arrested for their crime, who better to ask than one of the detectives working the case? 

Perhaps the tears had been tears of remorse, tears of fear at being caught. _Perhaps she is a better actress than you give her credit for._

Blanc had noticed how the men in her life treated her as though she were still a child or made of glass. But once again, the image of Ben Solo’s scarred face comes to mind. 

It is strange how Blanc could never seem to think of Rey without being reminded of Ben Solo at the same time. Even though the two had, for all intents and purposes, no relationship with one another. 

Blanc thinks about how people forgave Rey without any thought or effort. It was easy to, Blanc supposed, with her youth, sweet natured features and tragic backstory, to dismiss her as a frightened child defending Han and to paint Ben as the monster. 

But Blanc imagines a small, skinny child climbing into stranger’s boats and airplanes, travelling from the Bahamas all the way to Cuba without any idea where she would end up. That child had not been meek or easily cowed. 

That child knew how to defend herself and how to hide, and make herself small and unnoticed when it suited her. 

Blanc already knew she was capable of violence, but now, he has to wonder, bleakly, if she is also capable of murder. 

Leia is still speaking when low murmurs ripple out through the crowd.

Ben Solo has arrived. 

He had been standing inconspicuously off to the side, leaning casually against the trunk of a palm tree listening to his mother speak before the crowd noted his presence. 

He is dressed in a dark suit. Dark sunglasses obscure his eyes and most of his face. People start craning their necks to throw dark, angry glares in his direction, and turn to their neighbors to whisper their disbelief that Ben Solo would have the gall to show up at Han’s funeral. 

Blanc watches as Rey’s head in the front row turns towards the source of the disruption, her whole body tensing at the sight of the tall figure at the back of the crowd. 

Blanc cannot see the expression on either Rey or Ben’s face as their eyes meet. But when Rey turns back to the front, her eyes are hard, and her mouth is compressed into a thin line. 

  
  


*** 

After the ceremony ends, the crowd of people begin to either disperse or gravitate back to the house where caterers have already started to circle with trays of food and drinks. 

Blanc retraces his path back to Han’s office where they had interviewed Luke only a few days ago. It already feels like a lifetime ago. 

Blanc looks over the room again, wondering if there was something he had missed the first time. His eyes are automatically drawn to the photo of Han and a young Rey on the beach. 

There is a door in the office that leads into a bedroom with a large four poster bed with dark grey sheets. A framed black and white photograph of a younger Leia sits on the bedside table. 

Han’s bedroom. 

It’s sparsely decorated and mostly empty of personal touches in contrast to the office crammed full of fond memories. This room had obviously been used exclusively for sleep by Han. There is an armchair in the corner, and a side table with a silver tray with a crystal glass decanter of whiskey and matching glasses. 

Blanc draws closer to the side table, he is surprised to find a copy of the book he had been unsuccessfully trying to read during his time here in the Keys. 

There were no other books in the room, only a stack of aviation magazines piled haphazardly at the foot of the armchair. 

The book on the table was dog-eared and well-loved. Blanc picked it up, unnerved to realize he and Han had both been reading the same book when he died. Blanc wondered if he had finished it, although judging from its appearance Han had already read it a few times already. Blanc was about to place the book back when he noticed a flash of white peeking out from under the dust cover.

It was a love letter. It had been handled, folded, and refolded again carefully many times over from the looks of it. Blanc unfolds the paper and reads the tender words: 

  
  
  


_Please burn this letter as soon as you receive it._

_I will regret sending it tomorrow when my mind is clearer, and I have had a chance to rebuild every single one of my defenses that you have just burnt to the ground._

_I know I have no right to ask this of you. None at all._

_But please, my Princess, wait for me._

_Please._

  
  
  


Blanc slips the letter back where he had found it and places the book back on the table. 

He is leaving Han’s bedroom when he hears voices rounding the corner of the hallway outside. 

He slips back into the bedroom, leaving the door a sliver ajar. 

“It’s getting too close,” Blanc recognises Ben Solo’s voice, “the election is coming up in a few months.” 

“All in good time,” a man with a deep smooth baritone replies languidly. “you’re worried?” 

“I don’t want all the work we’ve done to go to waste. And I had hoped - I hoped doing this would be helping what happened in the past. None of it’s going to matter if you wait until after the election.”

“We won’t let that happen. Besides, what is that thing you say? A good act does not restore a bad act.”

“Wash out.” Ben corrects the man. “A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good.” 

Blanc waits until the footsteps pass the door he is hiding behind before peeking out through the gap. He recognises the man Ben is speaking with as Lando Calrissian; the man Luke had greeted warmly earlier that morning after speaking with him about Han’s will. 

The two men turn the corner, and their voices fade away. 

***

By the time Blanc returns to the main living area, Poe waves him over to where he is standing by the bar with a beautiful black woman with silver hair who peers up at him through huge coke bottle glasses. “Blanc, this is Maz Kanata.” 

Ah, at last. The infamous Maz. 

Poe and Hux had been unsuccessfully trying to track her down for days. She owned the popular Ocean Marina Bar and Inn which local’s referred to as just ‘Maz’s.’ She had been there the night of the infamous fight between Han and Ben on Tuesday night before Han turned up dead, when Ben had been heard threatening his dad. 

Maz informed them unfortunately that she hadn’t seen anything. She had greeted Han and poured him his usual drink. Then she had gone out the back to check up on the food orders. She had heard some raised voices but by the time she came out of the kitchen, both men were gone. 

Poe looks crestfallen but his face lights up when Lando Calrissian suddenly appears at his elbow to give Maz a rakish grin. 

“Maz. You beautiful creature. You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.” 

“Hello, you silver-tongued devil.” Maz and Lando kiss each other’s cheeks. “You didn’t manage to track down Chewie then.” 

“He’s been off-grid for about two weeks. He and his son are hiking their way through the Amazon rainforest.” 

“Captain Calrissian here used to assist Han with operations here in the seventies.” Poe explains by way of an introduction to Blanc. His voice is filled with reverence. “He and Han know every square inch of ocean around here, you could find a spec of dust in the water blindfolded couldn’t you, Lando?” 

“Oh well, I wouldn’t say that.” Lando says modestly. 

Blanc tunes out the conversation because Ben Solo has just wandered into the room and stopped abruptly in his tracks. Blanc follows his gaze to where Rey, Leia and Luke are seated on a plush sofa set on the other side of the room.

The rabble of voices fades as the rest of the room also takes note of Ben’s arrival. 

Leia’s face is smooth and impenetrable as she watches her son curiously. Blanc has a sudden gleam of understanding as to where Ben Solo’s talent for obscuring his emotions originate from. 

Luke just watches his sister, avoiding anybody’s eyes. Ben takes in his mother and his uncle wearily. Then his eyes flicker to Rey who is watching him with her eyes narrowed. 

When he moves to leave the room, Rey’s expression turns thunderous. She gets to her feet, ignoring Leia’s ‘ _Rey, leave it,_ ’ to stalk after Ben Solo. 

Blanc follows as if he is tethered to the pair of them with a string. 

Rey has to trot in her heels to catch up to Ben’s quick stride. She darts in front of him when they both reach the foyer.

“Why did you even come?” Rey demands. 

Ben pauses, “Excuse me,” he says as he attempts to walk around the woman stubbornly blocking his path. 

Rey steps quickly to her side, obstructing his attempt to escape. “Why are you here?” she asks again, forcefully, “did you come to pay your respects or something? You haven't even said a word to your mother, or Luke, or me.” 

Ben looks around the room to take in all the people watching the two of them, his eyes pausing briefly on Blanc. 

“It was a lovely service.” He says finally, he can’t seem to look her in the face as he speaks, but he does sound sincere when he says, “I’m sorry for your loss, Rey.” 

His words do nothing to placate her, if anything they seem to incense her further. “My. Loss.” she repeats in disbelief, “MY LOSS?” Ben moves again, trying to brush past her. 

“Hey, hey, I’m talking to you!” Rey snaps, whirling around to follow him, almost stepping on his heels. 

Ben turns suddenly, causing Rey to collide with his large chest. She shoves at him angrily, even though it has all the practical effect of shoving a large tree

“Are you drunk right now?” He asks her caustically. 

“You broke his heart, do you know that?” Rey’s voice is shaking with anger and other unnamed emotions as she unloads her adopted father's grief directly onto its source now that Han is not longer around to do so himself. 

“Just because he never said it to your face, doesn’t mean you get to keep walking around telling people he didn’t care or he wasn’t a good dad. He was a wonderful father, you just never gave him a chance to be there for you.” 

There is a twitch underneath Ben’s left eye, but when he says, “are you done?” His voice is calm and cold, as if he is speaking to an emotional toddler. 

“No, no _I’m not fucking done_. Han loved you. And all you ever did was push him away. That’s what you do - you just push away everyone who tries to love you.” 

Ben only turns around again to walk away from her. His lack of response seems to unhinge her. Her hand shoots out to grab his wrist, “Don’t walk away from me - I SAID WE’RE NOT DONE YET.” 

Ben’s jaw is clenched tight. He is no longer cool and emotionless; he is breathing hard, he jerks his wrist out of her grasp like her touch has branded him _._  
  


“What was it you said about him? You think he just abandoned you when things got too hard? That must be where you learned it, huh?” 

Rey sounds close to tears as the volume of her voice keeps rising until she is all but shouting. “Are you going to spend the rest of your life pretending your family doesn’t exist because it's easier than facing us? You’re not even going to talk to your mother? At your father’s funeral?” 

Ben has had enough. 

He advances on Rey and, in her place Blanc would have been alarmed, he would have stepped back from the unleashed white-hot rage on his face. But the younger woman stands her ground, blazing with a fury that rivals the emotions radiating from the man inches away from her, seething with anger. 

He uses his large body to tower over her as he snarls, “You know what your problem is Rey?” 

“ _You only see what you want to see in people._ ” Ben’s finger jabs forcefully at the empty space next to her left ear. 

“You think anyone who treats you with kindness is a decent person. Because you are so good at lying to yourself - you’ll bend over backwards to excuse their shortcomings. You think you knew my father? You didn’t. Maybe he actually was a good dad to you. 

“Or maybe you were so used to being treated like garbage your entire life _you weren’t able to tell the difference_.”

Rey slaps him. 

Ben barely registers it; their eyes remain locked, the air around them thrumming with tension, a red handprint begins to bloom on Ben’s pale cheek. 

Rey isn’t breathing properly, she’s sucking in air through clenched teeth, her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she stares at Ben Solo’s unrepentant expression. 

She slaps him again. Harder. Hard enough this time for his head to snap to the side. 

The sound of her palm hitting his cheek reverberates through the entirely silent house. All eyes are on the two figures in the middle of the foyer. 

Ben slowly turns his head to look at her; his eyes alight with some burning emotion Blanc cannot name. 

Blanc never knows what would have happened next because suddenly Poe is there; stepping in between them, shielding Rey from Ben’s view. 

Ben turns abruptly and leaves without another word. 

  
  


***

Blanc watches from the porch as Ben Solo speeds away from the Inn in a black sedan.

When he returns to the living area, Rey is back on the sofa with Leia and Artoo hovering over her in concern, her face is bleached white as she stares into space. Guests are filing out of the living area to give the family some privacy. 

Leia is saying something to her in a low voice as she hands Rey her drink. Rey hesitantly lifts the glass to her lips to swallow down a mouthful of the amber liquid. 

Leia murmurs something to Artoo who chirps something back in agreement before shuffling towards the kitchen. 

Joni is suddenly there next to him, she is wearing a huge hat that is draped with mosquito netting to obscure her face, luckily for her though, everyone at the funeral is too distracted to notice her strange attire. 

“That, was _way_ more dramatic than what happened at Harlon’s will reading.” she murmurs. 

Blanc doesn't answer. He’s watching Rey, slumped back on to the sofa, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, while his mind is racing. 

Hux enters the living room, and walks over to where Blanc and Joni are standing. “Blanc, Poe and I are heading back to the office. You wanna come with us?” 

“Yeah - uh sure.” Blanc says, distractedly as Artoo returns to hand Rey and Leia each a fresh glass of caramel coloured liquor. 

“Have we met before?” Blanc hears Joni say to Hux. 

“Uh-I’m not sure?”

“Are you a follower on my ig account? On Flam?” 

“Flam?” 

“Flam, my lifestyle brand? We promote self sufficiency with an acknowledgment of human need.” 

“Actually -,” Blanc interrupts Joni before she can start telling Hux about Flam’s skincare range for men, “I’ll go with Joni here, back to the hotel. I could use a break from the case today.” 

Hux shrugs. “Suit yourself.” 

*** 

Blanc paces the length of his hotel room restlessly; running over every detail of the case through his mind. 

Blanc is perturbed by what he had witnessed between them. 

It's as if something has been knocked loose in his mind. All the pieces of the puzzle are rearranging themselves with Rey and Ben at the center of the picture. 

More than anything he is unsettled at how the two of them had known exactly what to say to wound the other the most, digging their claws right into each other’s soft spots with barely any effort-

Something finally clicks. 

Blanc turns two frantic circles in his room, his eyes searching for his own copy of the book he’d found in Han’s room.

‘ _Love is the Balance_ ,’ by P. Altman. The book had only been published about two years ago. It had topped the New York Bestseller’s list for six consecutive months. A second book is due to be released early next year, and a HBO mini series based on the first novel is already in the works. 

The novel had been highly praised by critics, the redemptive arc of the main hero in the novel was deeply moving, the central message being that past wrongs can be overcome, and there is always a path to redemption so long as you fight to find it. 

He finds his copy sitting underneath a pile of papers where he had left it this morning after breakfast. 

Blanc flips frantically through the pages of the book until finally, he sees it. The passage he had read only a few days ago. 

_“It was justice,” Kylo Ren bowed his head, accepting the judgment. “A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. Each should have its own reward.”_

Blanc pauses. Then he reads it again, and again. 

Then he turns to the front of the novel where the dedication reads: 

_‘This book is for you my Princess. You remain; my sweetest torment, my most-beloved, and, my rey of light in the dark.’_

Blanc sits there on his bed for a long time. Then he lets out an astonished laugh. 

This book…had been written by Ben Solo. 

And he had dedicated it to Rey Niima. 

Because contrary to what had happened today in front of nearly a hundred guests at Han’s funeral; despite everything he had been led to believe since he started to investigate this case, Han’s children did not hate each other; they were very much in love. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of the first part of the story. Hope you've enjoyed the ride so far. The next chapters will be from Rey and Ben's point of view. 
> 
> Kudos to eagle-eyed readers IslandOwlArcher and T1mb3rf0xcr33k_Shyl03 for guessing something else was going on between these two kids in the earlier chapters. 
> 
> Here are some notes regarding references and sources used so far: 
> 
> 1\. The eulogy by Leia is from the Last Jedi Novelization by Jason Fry. I was going to give a go at writing my own but I thought : why mess with perfection? 
> 
> 2\. The excerpt from Ben's novel in chapter one is an edited version of a passage from Crime and Punishment. The quote here in chapter four is a conversation Stannis Baratheon has with his Onion Knight in A Clash of Kings by GRR Martin. I wanted excerpts of Ben's book to have a different texture to my own style of writing so I borrowed liberally from these excellent authors. 
> 
> Also, the redemption arcs in the novels Theon Greyjoy and Jamie Lannister are so wonderful and compelling. It STILL makes me angry that Terrio couldn't be bothered writing any sort of proper arc in the final movie for Ben, but I digress. 
> 
> 3\. Luke writing a book theorizing that his dad is a notorious serial killer was inspired by the true story of [Steve Hodel](https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/may/26/black-dahlia-murder-steve-hodel-elizabeth-short), who wrote a book theorizing that his dad, George Hodel, was the killer of not only the Black Dahlia but also countless other women. The FBI apparently wired his home telephone and had really damning evidence that George Hodel was (not only a real evil fucker) a serial killer but never did anything about it. If you are at all interested, I suggest you check out the true crime podcast [Root of Evil](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/turner-podcast-network/root-of-evil-the-true-story-of-the-hodel-family-and-the-black). The story was also adapted recently to a TV series on TNT directed by Patty Jenkins and starring Chris Pine, called 'I Am the Night.'
> 
> 4\. Apparently Joni's lifestyle brand, Flam, is a parody of Gwyneth Paltrow's brand Goop. I had some fun reading up on the interesting food and drink recipes on the Goop website. The green goo Joni drinks at breakfast was based on [this recipe](https://goop.com/recipes/elissas-inner-peace-tonic/). I know it's not green but I liked the image of her gulping down something green at breakfast and Blanc being super grossed out by it. 
> 
> 5\. Ben and Rey's fight in this chapter was heavily inspired by the Adam Driver and Scarlett Johanssan fight scene from Marriage Story. I think I have watched that scene a million times. The dialogue in that scene is so fraught with repressed anger and the way they both dig right into the other person's open wounds the way that only a person you know intimately can do is so so so real. It's a brilliantly written scene. 
> 
> 6\. Ben's pseudonym is Phillip Altman in This is Where I Leave You which is my favorite Adam Driver role besides the Sequel Trilogy.
> 
> 7.  
> [Blanc's suit in this chapter](https://bamfstyle.com/2018/12/07/spectre-5-black-suit-aston-martin/#more-25206)
> 
> Did you enjoy the chapter? Did you see the twist coming? Leave me a comment!


	5. Rey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY KNIVES OUT BLU-RAY/DVD RELEASE DAY. 
> 
> Have a surprise update on me! 
> 
> Content Warning: there are mentions of attempted child abuse in this chapter. Please proceed carefully.

**_“They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world:_ **

**_someone to love,_** **_something to do, and, something to hope for.”_ **

  
  


**_THEN_ **

**_12 NOVEMBER 2015_ **

Rey realizes, as she is helping Artoo with the dishes, that it is Ben Solo’s birthday next week. 

She’d been thirteen when she’d crept onto the Falcon under the cover of darkness after watching its owner wander off for a drink in the harbor. She had stayed awake all night, hiding under a pile of blankets in the cargo hold, waiting for dawn and staring at the wall next to her head where the figures etched into the metal read: **_B.O.S. 19.11.87._ **

It’s not until much later that she realizes Han has a son named Ben and figures out the meaning of the initials and the numbers. 

She finishes up drying the dishes and Artoo shoos her out of the kitchen. Rey goes to her bedroom, flopping onto her bed and stares at the ceiling, wondering why she is so upset at the thought of Ben Solo spending his twenty-eighth birthday alone and in prison. 

Perhaps it is because she has always felt like an imposter, like the old folktales where the parents are convinced that their child has been possessed by a demon because of its terrible temper. The parents are told to leave their child in a faerie ring in the forest overnight and the faeries steal away the human child and replace it with one of their own and the parents bring home a sweet and docile changeling babe none the wiser. 

Rey sleeps in a bed that should be his. She occupies his seat at the dinner table. She is the one helping Han with repairs to the Falcon and gets his one-arms hugs. She is the one spending Thanksgiving and Christmas with Han, Leia, and even Luke when they come down to the Keys for a visit. 

And Ben...Rey remembers the last time she had seen him. 

She remembers hovering outside Han’s study. She remembers Ben’s voice breaking as he pleads with Han, _“I’m being torn apart. I am going to lose everything, Dad. Please. Will you help me?_ ” 

She remembers raised voices. She remembers glasses shattering and wood splintering. 

She remembers his face covered in blood; his dark eyes staring at her in shock. 

Rey can hear Han slowly making his way down the hall towards her bedroom; his leg is healing fast. 

Rey is proud of how active he’s been; going swimming everyday and going to physical therapy religiously for the past few months. 

Soon he won’t need the crutch anymore, although the doctors have told them that his leg and hip won’t ever really heal completely. 

“Hey, kid.” He says from the doorway. “I’m heading out to Maz’s.” 

“Okay.” 

“You finish your assignment yet? Threepio said you were loitering around the equipment shed with Finn all afternoon.” 

Rey makes an impatient noise. “I want to be a deep sea diver, how is knowing about what happened during the Suez Canal Crisis going to help me?” 

“Hey, we made a deal. You’re almost eighteen. That means you’re going to be an adult. Adults keep their promises.” 

Rey lifts her head slightly to give him an incredulous look. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding calls from Kanjiklub?”

Han makes a sputtering noise and turns to leave, muttering something under his breath about teenagers. He calls out, “Finish your essay! Or else I’ll change my mind about Australia!” 

“IT’S THAILAND!” Rey shouts at his retreating footsteps. Han doesn't respond, and Rey goes back to staring at the ceiling as the sky outside her window turns dark. 

She switches on the lamp on her bedside table. A gold coin winks at her from its place on her desk.

She reaches for her laptop and after a quick Google search, she finds an article that informs her letters are the best thing to send an inmate since they do not have regular access to the internet or email. It even suggests that friends and family should send photographs to inmates so that they can stick the photos on the walls of their cell. 

She goes online to the correctional facility website where Ben has been imprisoned for the past three months and finds the identity number for Ben Solo easily enough. 

She goes to her desk and pulls out a sheet of blank paper, tapping her pen, trying to think of what to write. 

**Dear Ben,**

**I’m really sorry I cut your face open.** **But you totally had it coming.**

She snorts, pulls another fresh sheet of paper out and starts again. 

_It doesn’t really matter what she writes._ She tells herself. _He probably won’t write back. Maybe he is still angry with her. Maybe he hates her now._

But she writes. 

And she writes. 

She keeps writing until she’s filled pages and pages with her inelegant handwriting and she seals the pages up in an envelope before she can think too much about it. 

In the morning she catches a ride with Finn to the post office. 

_It doesn’t really matter anyways._ She tells herself again. _He will probably throw the envelope away as soon as he sees the return address._

It’s just that she doesn’t like the thought of someone like him, powerful, brilliant and burning with vitality, being so alone and diminished, caged in a cold grey cell. 

*******

  
  


**12 November 2015**

**Dear Ben,**

**I know it’s your birthday next week. I checked the facility website, and it said I am allowed to send you books and magazines. Do you like fantasy books? I’ve sent you one of my favorites.**

**I hope your face doesn’t hurt you anymore. I still have bad dreams about what happened.**

**I have been having lots of bad dreams lately. I keep dreaming about being back in Niima Airport.**

**That’s where my parents left me when I was six years old.**

**I waited for them to come back for me. And when they didn’t I played a game where I pretended I was a secret princess and a bad man wanted to hurt me so my parents left me there to lead the bad man away and to save my life.**

**I hid in the airport for a week before I was found, then I got sent to the orphanage.**

**I hated it there.**

**The beds were constantly being infested with bed bugs. All the nuns were a thousand years old and they caned my back and my legs when I misbehaved. The food was awful.**

**They forced me to read Charles Dickens for school, which seems like a cruel joke now thinking back on it.**

**I don’t think I would have minded being an orphan back in the Victorian days. If Oliver Twist was brave enough to ask for a second serving of gruel, I’m sure it tasted better than the stuff we were given to eat.**

**The other children never stayed as long as I did.**

**I think I realized at some point their parents couldn’t afford to feed them so they would leave them with the nuns. And when they had work again they would come back and take them home.**

**So I told myself that’s what happened, too. I told myself I just need to wait and be patient and eventually they would come for me.**

**When I turned thirteen, a man started to come to the orphanage to visit me more and more. He told the nuns he and his wife didn’t have children, and they wanted to adopt a little girl.**

**The man’s wife never came during the visits. It was only him.**

**He was fat and never stopped sweating, even when he was sitting in a chair in front of a fan watching me do my homework.**

**One day Sister Aloysius left me alone with the man - I can’t remember why. He grabbed my wrist so hard he nearly broke it and tried to pull my shorts down and said if I made any noise he’d lock me in a room the moment he took me home with him and he’d starve me.**

**I kicked and clawed at his face until he screamed and let me go.**

**I ran away.**

**I thought if I kept sneaking onto boats, eventually I’d find a ship at a dock heading back to London, and I could find my parents.**

**Han found me first. He took me home with him and told me I didn’t have to stay with him if I didn’t want to, but he wouldn’t mind having me around if I did want to hang around.**

**I didn’t trust him at first.**

**I kept running away, but Han always came and found me.**

**The last time I tried to run, I did something really stupid. I snuck onto a yacht that was the worst possible yacht I could have gotten on. The men on board found me, and I jumped off the side into the water and tried to swim back to shore. I nearly drowned before the coast guard found me.**

**Han was so angry. I don’t think he realized he kept calling me your name while he was yelling at me.**

**I started to cry. Then I told him I was trying to go back to London, and I wanted to find my parents.**

**I was so stupid. I should have just told him that from the beginning. He couldn’t take me to London himself; I didn’t have a passport. But he hired private investigators, and they found them.**

**I guess you already know I am not a secret princess.**

**And they could afford to feed me.**

**They were both just young and selfish and decided they didn’t want to be parents anymore. They said I was so difficult, and they just wanted to be childless again.**

**But if they took me back to London with them and tried to give me away, their friends would have judged them. So they left me in the airport in the Bahamas after our family vacation and told everyone back home I was staying with some relatives.**

**I still lie awake some nights thinking about them - trying to understand how they did what they did.**

**But I do try really hard to push them out of my mind because it hurts too much. It’s better if I bury them and keep my eyes forward.**

**I keep myself busy; there’s always something to do here at the Inn. I meet new people everyday, and I’m going diving whenever I have free time and studying to get my** [ ](https://www.padi.com/courses/advanced-open-water) **advanced open water certification.**

**How are you keeping yourself busy? I hope you will write back and let me know.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Rey.**

  
  


*******

_28 November 2015_

_Dear Rey,_

_Not every princess has a king and a queen for parents. And conversely, being a child of a king and queen does not make one a true princess._

_If I remember my Disney (and Hallmark) movies correctly, to be a true princess, you only need to be brave and strong and fearless, but most importantly, you need to have compassion for all people._

_Even those that do not deserve it._

_So perhaps you were right, you truly are a princess - you’ve just let some cruel nuns and evil villains make you forget along the way._

_Thank you for your gift. I have already read and reread The Silmarillion since it arrived. I cannot tell you how much of a comfort it is to me, to have Tolkein’s poetry within an arm's reach._

_The days here seem endless. And I try to fill the hours working in the laundry, exercising, and reading. But mostly I spend my time thinking._

_Whenever I felt sad or afraid as a child (which was quite often), I would cry, scream, and, break things, and nobody knew what to do with me. I think my parents just hoped I would grow out of it, like most children did._

_But when I got older the fear and loneliness did not leave me; the feelings only grew stronger and more frightening. They followed me everywhere I went, casting a beastly shadow over every relationship I had and leaving me increasingly isolated and miserable._

_So I said to myself, you must kill that beast. You must plunge a sword into its chest and devour it, and it will make you stronger so you will no longer have to be afraid._

_But now that I am here, I realize that I was a fool._

_All these men in here with me thought they had killed and eaten their beast._

_In truth, we let the beast swallow us whole._

_We are all just boys here - boys afraid of our own shadows._

_There are a great many things I regret; I wish I had done so many things so differently._

_But most of all I regret what happened the last time we saw one another._

_I am very grateful to you, Rey. If you hadn’t stopped me, I am terrified to think what would have happened._

_And I’m so very sorry. I despise myself for frightening you like that._

_You of all people should never have to be afraid. You deserve to eat cake for breakfast and play in the sun and water everyday._

_Can you ever forgive me?_

_There's not much to hope for in this bleak place. But I do find myself hoping you will keep writing to me._

  
  
  


_Ben._

  
  


*******

  
  


**3 January 2016**

**Dear Ben,**

**I left for a skiing trip in Colorado with some friends last month, and I didn’t get your letter until today.**

**I had never seen mountains or snow before.**

**I loved waking up every morning and going outside to see the slopes and trees covered with fresh snow like someone had sprinkled powdered sugar over everything while we slept.**

**During our hikes I saw a stag grazing close to the trail path, and we came across some locals ice fishing on a frozen lake. One day I got up at sunrise and went outside for fresh air, and there was a black bear going through the trash cans. I took a million photos while I was away, and I have included a few of my favourite photos of the things I saw with this letter.**

**I sprained my ankle on the intermediate slopes a few days before we were due to leave (Finn said I couldn't, and I stupidly wanted to prove him wrong), and I stayed back at the cabin drinking hot chocolate in front of a cozy fire and reading bodice rippers from the eighties.**

**I miss the smell of mountain air and fresh pine trees already.**

  
  
  


**Ben. I have already forgiven you.**

**The shadow you wrote about. I have felt it, too.**

**I felt it when I hurt you last year.**

**I felt it when that man tried to hurt me.**

**Even now, when I dream that I am back there in that room with that man standing in front of me, the stench of him in my nose, I think: I am stronger and older now.**

**And I feel such an impulse to reach out to hurt him, to make him suffer and bleed, to make** **_him_ ** **the scared and helpless one.**

**The dreams used to scare me, but lately, not so much.**

**I have become used to the feeling of being safe and well-loved in my new home. I am becoming used to having friends and family to rely on so the dreams come less often now.**

**The beast doesn't need to be killed. And you don’t have to let it swallow you whole.**

**Maybe you could try to be its friend. Every beast needs a friend.**

**I took some pine needles home with me, and I have put a few sprigs in the envelope carrying this letter to you so the paper will smell of fresh pine.**

**There will be better days ahead of you, Ben. I believe it with all my heart.**

**Write back to me soon, your Princess commands it.**

  
  


**Yours always,**

**Rey.**

*******

_23 March 2016_

_Dear Rey,_

_I took your advice, and I have enrolled myself in the creative writing course. I find myself enjoying it immensely._

_I have never been to Thailand, but if it was up to me to choose, I would choose Thailand over Australia to get your instructor certification._

_Don’t let other people persuade you to take the safer option if Thailand is where your heart is set. Yes, you are young, but you’re clever and strong. You have been taking care of yourself for a long time._

_Go to Thailand and visit some ancient temples. Take cooking classes and learn how to make Pad Thai. Go cycling through rice paddies, but please remember to write to me about all your adventures._

_Also, I looked up the drinking age in Thailand - it’s 20 - so at least I know you’re still not going to be able to go bar hopping if you choose Koh Tao over Byron Bay._

_Your birthday present is being sent out separately to this letter; the prison doesn’t let us take anything with us when we leave the workshop. I hope it reaches you in time for your birthday; it's only a small pendant I made in metalwork. The inscription is the ancient viking rune, Raidho._

_Take it with you to keep you safe on your travels dear Princess._

  
  


_Yours,_

_Ben._

***

**5 May 2016**

**Dear Ben,**

**I am writing to you from the airport while I am waiting to board my flight.**

**I promise to keep writing to you. Your presence in my life has already become so essential in such a short time.**

**I cannot imagine not being able to write to you and share my fears and happiness with you. I try to imagine how my life seems to you in my letters. Am I silly and selfish for complaining to you that I am frightened people here will forget about me once I am gone? Or realize that they do not miss me at all?**

**It feels so overwhelming. To get on a plane and leave for a few months, how different I am now to that little orphan girl climbing into the backs of planes and boats, not knowing where I will end up tomorrow. I think that little girl had more gumption in her little finger than I do in my whole body.**

**Yours always,**

**Rey.**

  
***  
  
  


_15 May 2016_

_Dear Rey,_

_She is still inside you, that little girl; it's only she has more to lose now than she did before._

_Friends and family who will count every day and hour until you return safely to their side._

_Don’t overly concern yourself with what I would think of the contents of your letters. The only thing that would upset me would be if you deliberately tried to censor your thoughts or words out of pity for my situation._

  
  


_Yours,_

_Ben_. 

***

**13 August 2016**

**Dear Ben,**

**Things I like about Koh Tao :**

  * **I got to swim with whale sharks last week (see photos).**


  * **I visited temples, and I have mastered the Pad Thai. I can make red curry paste from scratch, and I get to eat Sticky Mango Rice every day.**


  * **Thai. Massages.**


  * **My Aussie roommate, Hallie, invited me to go stay with her in Melbourne after the course is over. So ha. I will go bar-hopping after all.**


  * **I’m going to be a certified diving instructor when I’m finished with this course.**



**Things I hate about Koh Tao :**

  * **I am homesick.**


  * **Being halfway around the world means your letters take too long to get to me. I am posting letters to you every week, but I have no idea whether you have already replied to them or whether they are getting lost on the way to you. I wish I could send you emails, but the internet has been down since the Monsoon hit the island OVER ONE MONTH AGO.**



**I found a chain for your pendant, and I wear it around my neck to keep thoughts of you close to my heart.**

**Love,**

**The Saddest Princess, Rey.**

  
  


***

_13 August 2016_

_Dear Rey,_

_I haven’t received a letter from you after the Monsoon hit your island. I’ve been following the news online - the only thing that’s keeping me from panicking is that there hasn’t been any reports of any tourists being hurt or missing._

_I hope you’re just busy with your course and having fun with friends._

_As always, I remain your humble and concerned servant,_

_Ben._

***

  
  


**12 December 2016**

**Ben,**

**You didn’t answer me when I asked about coming up to Miami to visit you for Christmas.**

**I missed you so much while I was away.**

**I just thought it would be nice to have a conversation face-to-face.**

**Rey.**

  
  


***

_19 December 2016_

_Dear Rey,_

_The thought of you within a 10 mile radius of this place makes me feel physically ill._

_This place has been chipping away at what’s left of my dignity over the past sixteen months that I have been here, but I still have a little pride left._

_Please, Sweetheart, promise me you won’t ever visit me while I'm here. I never want you to see me like this._

_Yours,_

_Ben_

  
  


***

**28 December 2016**

**Dear Ben,**

**You never tell me about what life is like for you in there.**

**Sometimes I come across a news article about an inmate being beaten to death or set on fire in your prison, and it gives me nightmares.**

**One time someone started talking about what happened in the new season of Orange is the New Black and I burst into tears. Everyone just thinks that I am overly invested in the TV show.**

**Are you concerned that I won’t be able to handle the truth of what your life in there is really like?**

**I don’t need you to protect me. I have told you everything about my past, things I have never told anybody, and I have never felt the need to hide anything from you.**

**It hurts me to think you don’t trust me enough to be honest or open with me.**

**Nothing you tell me will make me think less of you.**

**You are one of the best men that I have ever known. Nothing you tell me could ever make me love you less.**

**Love,**

**Rey.**

  
  


*** 

_15 January 2017_

_Dear Rey,_

_I can handle anything these vicious bastards throw at me in here. And I have become adept at keeping my head down to avoid trouble._

_Occasionally some idiot who thinks he got done wrong by his lawyer learns that I used to be an attorney and decides he wants to take his rage out on me. Or maybe a lowlife finds out who my mother is, and they think hurting me is going to give some meaning to their miserable and ignorant existence._

_Bruises, cuts and bones will heal. I can even endure the numerous indignities and violations that you become numb to in prison, every part of your body, every orifice is subject to being handled and examined at the whim of a guard with a Napoleon complex._

_These pains and humiliations are nothing; we humans are conditioned to be adaptable to our environments._

_It's the small things that will wear you down - that make you hope for less and less until you stop wanting anything - until you’re barely existing._

_One day, you just wake up and suddenly realize you have forgotten that life can be worth living._

_You forget that before you came here, there was joy. There was peace._

_It’s not the beatings or indignities that causes your soul to die a slow death here._

_It's the way we are fed, as though we are livestock, they give us food out of necessity instead of nourishment._

_It's the scent of harsh chemicals in your clothes and bed clothes when they come back from the laundry._

_It's how I never really feel clean, no matter how long I stand under the tepid shower water and scrub at myself with soap. The stench of this place slowly seeps its way into your skin._

_The nights are the worst. As long as I can remember, I have had trouble sleeping._

_When I ran out of options with medication and white noise machines, the only thing that had some varying degree of success was a little exercise a sleep therapist taught me._

_He told me to imagine an island._

_He told me to float above the island like a seagull and look down and see the waves of a deep blue ocean rolling and crashing against the rocks._

_He said to look closer and visualize the entire lifespan of the smallest creatures living on the island: they are born, create more life, and then will return to the earth, everything existing in perfect harmony._

_They took that from me, Rey._

_Most nights, I lay awake all night listening to prisoners’ screams and howls echoing down the halls. I flinch at imaginary footsteps moving towards my cell._

_I relive every decision I made in my life that led me here, and in my weakest moments, my thoughts turn to the cellmate who decided to break free of this hellhole and took his own life three months ago._

_The only thing that this place cannot take from me is you._

_Every photo you have ever sent me is stuck to the wall next to my bunk so I can look at them when sleep won’t come to remind me there is still beauty outside these walls._

_You’re my island, Rey._

_And I will never let the ugliness of this place touch you._

  
  


_Yours,_

_Ben._

*** 

**3 February 2017**

**Dear Ben,**

**Next time you cannot sleep, I want you to imagine this.**

**One day, very soon, you will wake up in a cool dark room, wrapped up in sheets that are crisp and smell of home.**

**You will realize it's the scent of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee outside the bedroom door that’s woken you.**

**I’m there waiting for you in the kitchen. There’s also freshly squeezed orange juice, crusty bread we bought yesterday from the bakery that you slather butter all over. I’ve also set out sweet blueberries, papaya, pineapple and yogurt for you.**

**I make you a perfect fluffy omelette filled with peppers and cheese while I eat only donuts for breakfast, and I break off pieces of the sugary dough and feed them to you even though you insist that it’s terrible to have that much sugar this early in the day.**

**After our bellies are full, we head outside for a walk. We have nowhere we need to be, and we can spend the day doing anything we want.**

**The day is bright and sunny, the air is dry, and I tell you it’s a perfect day to take the boat out.**

**The wind whips through your hair as you steer the small fishing boat out of the Marina and into the open sea.**

**I spend the day diving and exploring, and I come back up every so often to tell you what I’ve found on the reef.**

**You stay on the boat with a bottle of chilled wine, reading a book. You doze off under the sun, letting the gentle waves rock you to sleep.**

**When you wake up, the sun is setting on the horizon.**

**I coax you into joining me for a swim. We leap off the boat into the ocean together, the cold water washes you clean.**

**We swim and play while the sky above us turns orange and pink and red.**

**We packed cold chicken, Cuban sandwiches, potato salad, soda, soft cookies and key lime pie so we have a picnic on the boat.**

**The stars are so bright here in the middle of the ocean, and we lie on our backs, full and sleepy and content, taking turns trying to trace all the constellations we can find.**

**There’s nothing around us, no sounds except for the waves splashing against the boat.**

**You fall asleep in my arms.**

**You’re safe. You’re not alone. You never have to be again.**

  
  


**Love always,**

**Rey.**

*******

  
  


_Please burn this letter as soon as you receive it._

_I will regret sending it tomorrow when my mind is clearer, and I have had a chance to rebuild every single one of my defences that you have just burnt to the ground._

_I know I have no right to ask this of you. None at all._

_But please, my Princess, wait for me._

_Please._

  
  
  


*******

**  
****Dear Ben,**

  
  


**You never had to ask.**

**I have been from the first, and always will be, yours.**

  
  


**Love always,**

**Rey.**

  
  


*******

  
  


_6 June 2017_

_Dear Rey,_

_I like your tattoo just fine._

_I am very pleased to inform you that my parole application has been approved. I will be released on 28 August._

_The publisher is pushing for an October deadline. My editor and I will be able to work much more efficiently towards the deadline if I am in New York. I did inform the parole board of this during my hearing so I have been granted leave to relocate to New York during my parole period._

_My agent and editor will want to meet with me as soon as possible, and I am going to start looking for suitable places to rent. I will be looking for flights to New York in mid-September._

_If the Inn is usually busy during the period leading up to Labor Day, why don’t we make tentative plans to meet for dinner the first weekend after Labor Day?_

_It will be nice to see you in person so I can tell you how much your friendship has meant to me during this difficult time._

  
  


_Yours,_

_Ben._

  
  


*** 

**16 June 2017**

**Dear Ben,**

**I cannot tell you how happy I am for you. I cannot wait to have dinner with you.**

**You will need to give me your new mobile number so we can finally text when you’re released.**

**Here’s mine: (786) 555-5956.**

**I cannot wait to bombard you with gifs and memes and teach you how to use emojis.**

  
  


**Love always,**

**Rey.**

***

_23 June 2017_

_Dear Rey,_

_It’s been 24 months. Not 24 years._

_Emojis were around 2 years ago._

  
  


_Yours,_

_Ben._

*** 

**30 June 2017**

**Dear Ben,**

**Yeah, but you probably never even installed them on your phone.**

**I bet you didn’t even know people can sext with emojis.**

  
  


**Love always,**

**Rey.**

  
  


*** 

**Today** 4:35PM

 **Unknown:** Hello Rey. This is Ben **.**

  
  
  
  


***

**_NOW_ **

**_18 DECEMBER 2019_ **

Rey can’t sleep. 

She reaches for her phone to check the time. It’s one o’clock in the morning. 

The house is eerily silent. She can’t remember the last time she was alone in this big empty house. 

Artoo and Threepio have taken leave for a week to go home to Cuba to visit relatives. 

Luke is staying with Leia at her hotel. 

Finn left a few hours ago to go for drinks with Poe after she had assured him she was going to go to bed and rest. 

Her head and neck are aching. Her body feels heavy. She hadn’t been sleeping well for a week now, not since last Tuesday.

She had thought, after the funeral, she would retreat to her room, shut out the rest of the world and stay in bed until this nightmare was all over. 

But still she cannot sleep. 

Rey checks her phone again. She has no new messages. Not that she expected any. 

She imagines sending Ben a text now. But she can't imagine what she would say to ease the maelstrom of emotions that have been bubbling inside her all week.

_I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry for everything I said today. I lost control. I’m sorry Ben._

_Why did you say those things to me today? You really hurt me._

_Why have you been ignoring my calls and texts? Where are you?_

_I need you. You promised me you would never leave me. Where are you?_

_I love you. Let’s just run away. Let’s leave this mess behind and run away and never come back._

But Rey only tosses her phone aside and slips out of bed. 

She moves through the dark house not bothering to turn on any lights; it will only make her head ache more. 

She is heading towards the kitchen for a glass of water when she hears a noise in the living area. 

She freezes. 

There are heavy footsteps moving in her direction. The footsteps don’t belong to anyone she knows. 

Finn’s bedroom is right there. He’s left the door open. 

Rey darts inside, plastering herself against the wall, her hands covering her mouth, terrified that she is breathing too loudly. 

The footsteps cautiously move past her in the hallway, and then they pause. 

They’re standing right outside her bedroom door. 

Rey creeps slowly to the doorway, her heart is pounding in her chest like a jackhammer, she peers out into the hallway. 

There is enough moonlight filtering in through the hallway window for her to make out a shadowy figure. She can’t tell if it’s a man or woman. They are dressed head to toe in black and a ski mask completely covers their face. 

She watches as the intruder carefully opens her bedroom door. Threepio keeps the hinges in the house well-oiled so there is no sound as the door swings open. 

The intruder’s arm comes up and, with a sharp intake of breath, Rey sees the gun aimed towards her bed where she had been resting only moments ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What??? Two cliffhangers? In one chapter? I am such an asshole. 
> 
> You will get Ben and Rey's dinner date next chapter. 
> 
> In the meantime, leave me a comment below to let me know if you liked it.


	6. Ben: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's a long weekend here in Australia, so I managed to get this beast of a chapter finished early. It was so long I had to split it up into two parts. 
> 
> By lovely beta hasn't had a chance to go through it yet, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors.

**Subsistence**

There are lots of things Ben has to get used to again after leaving prison. 

The silence is the most jarring. It’s not that he misses the buzzing that signals a cell door opening, the guards barking out orders, low, constant rumble of the other inmates, or, the snores of his cellmate at night. The absence of it just sets his teeth on edge. 

The second is not having to operate according to a strictly controlled timetable. It leaves him floundering and anxious for a few days, so he creates his own routine; he still wakes up at five o’clock in the morning, and then he leaves the small apartment he is renting to go for a run. The air is cool, the sky is still dark, and there are barely any cars on the streets. 

He doesn’t have to run in circles in a fenced-in exercise yard, there isn’t a limit to how far he can go. On the first day he runs twenty miles without even noticing and he has to hail a cab to get him back to his apartment because he lost track of where he had ended up. 

He takes a shower, he stands under the hot water so long that his fingers turn wrinkley. He eats breakfast; eggs, toast, cereal. He works on edits his Editor has sent him. He swims laps in the pool in the apartment complex. He works some more. 

The sky grows dark and he eats a quick dinner in front of the TV, and then he goes to sleep. The bed is also too soft; one more thing he has to get used to. 

He stays inside his apartment. He avoids talking to people because it makes him uncomfortable when they stare at his scar. He had barely registered its presence in prison, he was hardly the only guy in there who had visible scars or injuries. But now he finds he isn’t quite sure how to respond to the curious stares other than averting his eyes or glowering at people when their eyes linger for too long. 

On the Friday after Labor day, he wakes up with a hollow feeling in his stomach. He pushes himself on his run and ends sitting on the sidewalk panting and trying to breathe through the sharp pain in his side. 

He checks his phone and Rey has sent him a text message: 

**Today 6:30 AM**

**Rey:** See you tonight at 7! I’m staying at my friend’s place so I’ll drop off my bag and then I’m heading straight to your apartment. Can’t wait! 

There’s a gif of minions crying out in excitement underneath her text message. 

And then underneath the gif, his heart skips a beat, is a selfie she’s taken of herself this morning beaming at the camera in her wet suit on her kayak with the sun rising in the background. He takes a moment to count the freckles on her nose before he tucks the phone away. He rests his forehead on his knees and lets out a groan of despair. 

The photos Rey had sent him with her letters had started innocently enough. Mountaintops covered in snow, eerie shipwrecks, a pod of Asian elephants bathing in a river in an elephant sanctuary in Thailand. He had kept every single one of these photos stuck to the wall of his cell with toothpaste. 

Then she had started to send the occasional photo of herself with her letters, she had waved to him from her kayak as a pod of dolphins frolicked around her, she smiled down at her hands as she cradled freshly hatched baby sea turtles. He had kept those photos hidden with her letters, not wanting to share her face with anybody else. 

But then, without warning, about a year into their correspondence, something had shifted, and after arriving in Australia, she had sent a photo of her on a beach blowing him a kiss in a bright pink bikini. 

Then, a few months later, she had sent him a photo of her in makeup and a low-cut, tight, red dress as she rang in the New Year with a group of her girlfriends. 

Two months before he is released from prison he receives a close-up photo of her new tattoo on her bare torso. There's a hint of the curve of her breast next to the tiny sun that both shocks and arouses him in equal measure. 

Ben had wondered for a split second if she had been toying with him, the anger rising swiftly and fiercely. He had imagined her laughing about him, a pathetic lonely convict, with her friends as they decided which photo would cause him the most discomfort. 

The rage had dissipated as fast as it appeared. Rey wouldn't do that; and he had been so ashamed of his uncharitable thoughts. 

Ben had hidden those photos of her away with her letters. He has desperately tried not to obsess over them and failed miserably. 

He barely remembers getting back to his apartment. He opens the fridge and gets a bottle of orange juice out, drinking half the bottle thirstily.

The run has exhausted his body but his mind is more restless than ever. He paces the small space of the kitchen before he pulls out his phone again. 

He dials the number he has memorized off by heart. It rings a few times before a bored voice answers, “Andor.” 

“Cassian,” Ben begins. 

“Hey Solo, how’s the weather in Miami?” 

“Uh,” Ben falters, because who still starts conversations with questions about the weather? “Humid and hot, feels like an armpit. Have you got any news?” 

Casian sighs. “Haven't we been through this already, we call you when we want something, you don't call this number just for a status report.” 

“Yeah ok,” Ben starts pacing the room again. “Whatever.” 

He doesn’t hang up, and Cassian pauses before asking him, “So what's happening on your end? You keeping your nose clean?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“What have you been getting up to?” 

“Uh- I just got back from a run.” There is an expectant silence on the other end of the line so Ben continues, “I have some pages from my editor I need to look over today, and the place I'm renting has a pool, so I usually go for a swim after lunch, and-” His throat is dry, Ben swallows, “I'm meeting a friend for dinner tonight.” 

“Who's the friend? I didn't know you had friends.”

“Just - uh-” 

“Ah,” Cassian seems to have picked up on his nervous energy from the crack in his voice, “You called up an old girlfriend right? To scratch your itch?” 

“What?” Ben’s ears start to burn, “No!” 

“Oh, I know,” there is a sound like Cassian has just snapped his fingers. “You're on the apps. Whats that new one, the one Kaytoo was telling me about the other day-”

“It's just a friend, Cassian.” 

“Christ, Solo, no wonder you’re harassing me. You need to get yourself back out there. I know sometimes it can be a little scary after getting out, but, chicks are gonna dig that big scary scar you got. Trust me. 

“Hey, I got an idea, I got a friend I know in your area, she helped me a few years ago when those finance bros were being roofied by strippers. Let me do you a favor, I’m gonna give her a call, ask her and a couple of her girls to take you out for a good time.”

“‘No, thanks. Last thing I need is my parole officer getting a call that I got caught with my pants down with a couple of call girls.”

“Hey, I was doing you a favour-”

“And the friend that I am seeing tonight - she - it's complicated.” 

“Ooh I love complicated things. Who is it? How’d you meet?” 

“What are we, in middle school?”

“Come on indulge me- it's a slow day at the office, who else are you going to talk to about your complicated love life?” 

“Literally anybody else,” Ben says sullenly, but there is no bite to his words. 

“So?” Cassian needles. “Who is she?” 

“She’s...she’s Han’s adopted daughter.”

Ben hears Cassian’s chair squeak as if he had been leaning back in his chair and had jolted back upright. " _What_?! The one that-”

“Yeah, we kept in contact. I mean, we didn't really know each other before, but she started writing to me a few months after I started my sentence-”

“Hang on, hang on, she- isn't she…how old is she now?”

Ben takes a deep breath. _This is good_ , he is grateful for Cassian’s reaction. It’s reminding him of all the reasons why he was right to book a one-way ticket to New York.

“She’s nineteen.” 

_And you’re almost thirty, way too old for her, old enough to know better, what’s wrong with you, lusting after a teenage girl?_

“Uh. Ok, wooow.”

“Listen I think she thinks she has a crush on me, it just got a little out of hand when we were writing to each other. It's just that, when you’re inside sometimes everything can get a little intense. And we haven't ever spoken on the phone or...even before we barely had a real conversation with each other, I think she just - maybe she thinks I’m someone that I'm not. 

“And you know what- she’ll probably get it, as soon as she sees me, she’ll realize she's built up some fantasy of me in her mind. 

“But anyways, none of that matters. I am moving to New York soon. And tonight I’m going to tell her that she means a lot to me and I'm grateful for her friendship and for writing to me while I was there, but- there's just no way anything else is going to happen. And besides, Han would- yeah, it's - how would we even- it's ridiculous!” 

His voice has gotten louder and he’s been talking too fast, the words tumbling after one another to get out of his mouth before they’d been fully formed in his mind. 

As he heard the words coming out in his voice he felt a shooting pain in his chest, to reduce Rey's letters to him and the things she had told him to nothing more than a teenage girl’s fantasy when her words had been the only thing that got him through the hardest and longest nights felt like the worst betrayal. He rubbed his chest absentmindedly.

“You ok there big guy?” Cassian’s tone is light but laced with genuine concern. 

Ben mumbles a ‘ _Fine_ ,’ and Cassian says gently, “Listen, Don't say _any_ of that okay? Just take it easy with her, you know, relax, it's dinner. Have a good time, chat about uh, I dunno, ask her about college classes or her friends. Don't get all intense and loud and scare her, she’s a teenager, they’re really sensitive and they’ve got all these emotions. Where are you taking her?” 

Ben panics as he realizes he hadn’t thought about where they would be going for dinner. “Shit, I haven't even thought about it. Where should I take her?” 

“Take her to Ennios.” Cassian says immediately, “It's a nice family restaurant. Huge servings of everything. Order a massive plate of pasta. It’s crowded and noisy as hell. Just keep eating until you’re both feeling bloated and sleepy. That will kill any lingering sexual tension. You know what, let me call now and get you a reservation. My cousin works there. And if that doesn't work, I'll tell him to pour a bucket of ice over your heads.” 

“Uh - thanks?” 

“Hey, no worries. Anything for a friend.” 

“We’re friends?”

“Sure, Solo, we’re friends.”

***

His apartment buzzer goes off at ten to seven. 

Rey is early and Ben is a wreck.

_Everything’s fine. It’s fine._

He heads downstairs to the lobby. 

Did his hands get bigger? He feels like a giant. Why are his arms so long? 

He’s always been a tall guy, it had been useful to use his height to tower over opposing counsel during negotiations. Now he just feels ungainly and over-aware of his too-big body.

He takes deep breath as the elevator doors open and he looks out the glass doors of his building to see Rey waiting patiently outside. 

She smiles at him through the glass, and his mind stutters for a second; and he sees another Rey, withdrawn and too-skinny at fourteen, lighting up with pleasure when he offers to let her take the little coin with her. 

And then there is the Rey as he had seen her the last time, her face is fierce as she lunges at him her teeth bared at sixteen, and then afterwards, the shock and horror as she had stared at his ruin of a face covered with blood. 

All of these Reys blur in his mind and then there’s only the Rey standing in front of him. 

She is wearing a pretty green sundress and wedges. She’s worn her long hair down in loose, beachy, waves. 

She fits right in here in Miami, another trendy, young woman with sun kissed skin - only she isn’t any other woman, she is Rey. His Rey. And she is here. He could reach out and he could touch her. 

He opens the door and curses himself when the “Hey,” comes out a little unsteady and breathless. 

The bright smile she greeted him with when he opened the door is slowly fading - she stares up at him with huge eyes, a dawning horror on her face and Ben steels himself for her to suddenly back away and make a flimsy excuse before getting right back into the Lyft car that is still dawdling in front of the building. 

“Oh no, oh no, Ben.”

She stares. He stares back, nonplussed.

“Your...face.” Her mouth started trembling and tears were gathering in her eyes. 

“Oh god, it’s awful.”

_What?_

Ben was starting to get a little offended. He knew he wasn't handsome, he had big ears, a big nose and his face was too long and covered with blemishes; but nobody had been reduced to tears by the sight of his face before.

But before he can do or say anything, she’s moving into his space, both of her hands reach up to cup his face. “Oh, oh, it must have hurt so badly.” 

Her thumb traces a line down his left cheek and Ben is so startled by the contact and the scent of her perfume it takes him another long moment to catch on to her words. 

Oh. The scar. 

“It’s an old wound, he assures her, his hands came up automatically to her elbows.

Ben isn’t sure how long they both stand there staring into each other’s face, his heart is pounding in his chest, her face anguished as she takes in the length of his scar and he tries to remember exactly why he is moving to New York instead of pulling Rey into his arms so he can kiss her senseless and assure her the scar doesn’t concern him one bit. 

She seems to come back to herself, she pulls her hands from his face and takes a step back from him. The distance between them makes him want to weep.

“Sorry, sorry, I just-” she gives him a shy, little smile. “It just never occurred to me that there would be a scar, but, of course there is.” 

  
  


*** 

Ben invites her upstairs to his apartment and her eyes linger on the boxes in the living room. 

He’s been going through the possessions that had been packed into and left in a storage unit while he was in prison to see what he will bring with him to New York. 

There isn’t really much else to see, the apartment comes fully serviced with a concierge and a regular cleaner, none of the furniture or decorations belong to him but she says the view of the City from his living room is beautiful. 

Ben wonders if he is being awkward. He’s got his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans so he isn’t tempted to reach for her while Rey wanders around his living area commenting on the decor. 

He is about to tell her about his dinner reservations when Rey checks her phone and says they should go soon, she told her friend Peter they would be at his restaurant at seven-thirty. 

Ben blinks, and then he nods and takes her back out to the elevator down into the garage where his car is parked. 

The car ride is uneventful, Rey asks him about his day and how the book is coming along. 

She doesn’t bring up New York or their letters (particularly that letter). Being with her is relaxed, comfortable even. When they fall into silence at a set of traffic lights, Ben doesn’t feel the need to fill it. 

The lights turn green again, and Rey asks him if she can change his old-man radio station to actual music, making a dig at Ben who usually likes to have the radio tuned to the local NPR station. They bicker the rest of the way to the restaurant about their respective music tastes and Rey even squeezes a few laughs out of him. 

Rey’s friend, Peter, is a big burly Asian man, his huge arms covered in colorful tattoos of vivid pink lotus flowers, orange and silver koi fish and swirling blue waves. 

He lights up at the sight of Rey. “Rey! I didn't know you were in town!”

“Hey Peter,” they hug, exchanging quick updates, Rey informs him she’s in town for the weekend before turning to introduce Ben. 

“Peter, this is my friend Ben. I told him that I keep promising to come here for dinner but I haven't had the chance.”

“Hey man,” Peter’s eyes rake over his scar briefly, but his expression is open and welcoming and his handshake is firm. 

“Any friend of Rey’s is a friend of mine. She's my girl. She saved my life you know? We were in Oahu, I went on this diving tour, the current pushed me a couple miles away from the diving boat. I was swimming around totally lost and then I turned around and there’s Rey, signaling me to ascend. 

“The crappy diving instructor didn't even notice I'd gone and just left me in the middle of the ocean. Rey just happened to see me swimming around in circles and came after me.”

“I hope you got a good attorney to send them a strongly worded letter.” Ben says, unnerved at the thought of being pushed out slowly by the currents into the deep ocean and left there to die. 

Peter laughs. “Man, you must be a lawyer. Lawyers always ask me if I took those assholes to the cleaners, every time I tell that story the first thing a lawyer says is: you need to sue those bastards.”

“Ben used to be one. But he’s a writer now.” Rey says before he has to respond. She throws a proud smile in his direction. “His book is being published next year.”

The warm glow inside him is unfamiliar. He’s not used to people bragging to others about his accomplishments. 

Peter directs a waiter to lead them to a cosy booth, promising to check up on them soon. 

The lighting in the restaurant is dim, jazzy J-pop plays over the speakers and Ben feels himself relaxing slightly.

He looks over the menu, a little overwhelmed by the selection of raw seafood, sushi, oyster shots and more familiar fare of ravioli and steak but there’s descriptions of miso, truffle and shoyu.

After two years of not having any choice in the matter of food, the concept of picking and choosing something from a menu feels foreign. Thankfully, when the waiter comes back for their orders, Rey just asks him to recommend a few of their popular dishes. She even chooses a beer for him and a cocktail for herself.

Ben opens his mouth to say something disapproving about her being below the drinking age but quickly shuts it again. 

“It’s so hard to find decent sashimi in the States, but Peter gets his stock from the same suppliers as Nobu.” 

Ben tries to concentrate on her words and not how perfect her face is. 

“There’s fresh seafood everywhere in Florida, but the places I have been where they say it's an authentic sushi and sashimi bar; I’m always disappointed. There’s something about the color, and the texture. It's not at all like Hawaii or Melbourne.”

“I’ve read Melbourne has some of the best restaurants in the world,” Ben says, as a platter of salmon, scallop and tuna on a bed of crushed ice is placed on their table. 

He eyes his chopsticks, hoping he hasn't forgotten how to use them. 

Rey is happy to go into detail about all the food she had tried while she was overseas while they eat. 

She chatters excitedly as plates of miso glazed eggplant, wagyu beef sirloin, fried tofu soaking in sweetened soy sauce, juicy fried chicken and sushi rolls with seared salmon and cheese are placed in front of them.

It’s a treat to watch her devour her food. She makes little noises of pleasure and her expressive face brightens in delight at every tasty mosel that passes her lips. 

At some point during their meal Rey pauses abruptly mid-sentence describing a dessert bar she went to in Melbourne and stares at him in dawning horror. “Oh my god, I’ve just been stuffing my face and talking non-stop.”

“No,” Ben says quickly, “Not at all, its- I could listen to you talk all night.” He says truthfully, regretting the words as soon as he says them. 

“Oh.” She says, her cheeks red and her eyes bright.

There’s suddenly a loud crash from behind him. Ben tenses immediately, swinging his body around. The chefs in the open kitchen are talking loudly and gesturing over some metal trays that have been knocked to the ground. 

He tries to relax, but all he hears suddenly is the sound of rushing blood in his ears, the adrenaline rushing through his body keeping him wound tight.

“Hey,” a soft hand covers his clenched fist on the table. 

Rey stares at him in concern. “What’s wrong? Where’d you go just now?”

Ben doesn't want to explain that fights break out during meals in prison on a regular basis. Sometimes in the confusion and chaos, if you’re not alert or you don't move fast enough you can find yourself in the infirmary for treatment.

He just blinks and swallows, trying to will his heartbeat to slow. “Nowhere. It’s fine. Just startled me, that's all.

Rey gets up and slides into his booth so she can sit next to him, her hand on his again. “Are you really fine?” She asks softly and gently, “You know you can talk to me.” 

“It’s an adjustment.” He says, trying to be casual, “being on the outside. I didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s only been two years.” 

“It will take time.” she says, squeezing his hand. 

It feels so natural to uncurl his fist and turn his wrist so they can interlace their fingers. “You haven't really eaten much. Do you not like the food?” 

“No,” Ben assures her, “I just haven’t had much of an appetite. That’s all.” 

And it's strange, he tells her, now that he thinks about it, in prison, all the other inmates did was bitch about the bad food, and describe the first meal they would be having as soon as they got out. 

Some had talked about a restaurant they had frequented before serving time, some just wanted to drive to the nearest diner and fall on a steak, most of them just wanted a home cooked meal from their mother. 

But after he had been released he had found he didn't have much of a hunger for anything. So he had been subsisting on a diet of supermarket roast chicken, cereals, bread, eggs and prepacked salads and vegetables he could nuke in the microwave. 

Rey, however, is not satisfied with his explanation when he told her. She uses his chopsticks to pick up a piece of sushi, “Open.” she says, he does, and she slips the little roll of rice, cheese, and salmon into his mouth. 

“Close your eyes.” She says, very serious. Ben obeys her, closing his eyes. 

“Savor it. Think about the flavors you can taste, count them individually in your mind, let them seep into your tongue. Are you doing it?” 

“Yes.” 

When his eyes open again, she is still watching him, and he doesn't think anyone has looked at him with that look on their face, it’s so soft and tender and there's something else that makes him terrified and hopeful and anxious all at once. 

It's the same intense cocktail of emotions that had overtaken him when he had received her letter in February and he’d lost his mind and written to her begging her to wait for him. 

_Don't._ Ben wants to tell her, he wants to get on his knees before her and beg her. _Don't make me fall even more in love with you. I can't bear it._

Ben tries to steer the topic of conversation back to something safe. He asks her about some of the diving tours she had done recently. And she happily complies, although she nudges the platter of sushi towards him so he obligingly untangles his hand from hers to pick up his chopsticks again. 

He tries to savor the food and stay attentive to Rey while she talks. But he can't help getting distracted by her proximity and her flowery perfume. 

The green sundress that she is wearing would be perfectly appropriate except that its neckline is so low, every time she shifts slightly he catches glimpses of the tantalizing curve of her breasts. 

If he just reached over and tugged the material slightly to the side- the thought is cut off when Peter suddenly appears by their table to check upon them. 

_Sleazebag._ The voice in Ben’s head hisses at him. _Asshole._

They’ve cleared their plates and Peter asks them if they want to order dessert. Ben feels fuller than he’s been for a long time but at the expectant look on Rey’s face, he offers to order something for them to share. 

She scoffs. “I do not share my dessert Ben.” 

So they order two desserts, both that Rey wants to try. She steals a bite of Ben’s Yuzu sorbet and says she prefers that to her chocolate cake. Ben smiles and switches their desserts. 

After dinner, he offers to drive her back to her friends’ place. Rey protests immediately, telling him she’s having so much fun and can they go back to his apartment - she wants to watch her favorite episodes of Parks of Recreation with him. 

Ben feels like every concession he makes for her, he’s weakening, all those noble and good intentions seem far away when she’s here with him, smelling so good and begging to spend more time with him. 

Rey slips her hand into his as they walk back to the car. She tucks herself into his side as though she belongs there.


	7. Ben: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: ratings have changed.

**Nourishment**

Ben is careful to leave a space between them on the sofa. He’s offered her a cup of peppermint tea which is still sitting on the coffee table, untouched. 

He tries to watch the show but his eyes keep getting drawn to her face. 

_She’s not for you._ The voice reminds him. 

_I'm just looking_. Ben snaps at the voice, irritably.

After the first episode has finished, Rey moves over to his side to grab the remote from his hand so she can choose the next episode. She stays there next to him as the next episode starts, her soft body leaning against his arm, her scent in his nose. 

He shifts when his arm starts to fall asleep and Rey moves with him, nuzzling into his chest and pressing herself against his body. 

The second episode ends and instead of choosing another episode, Rey crawls into his lap and starts to press soft kisses against his cheek and neck. 

“You haven’t kissed me yet.” She whispers, he stares at her face, her eyelashes are lowered as she looks down at his neck, her fingers tracing with the material of his shirt. 

“You keep looking at me like you want to and I keep hoping you will, but you haven’t yet.” 

He tries to think of what all the things he had originally planned on telling her at dinner. 

_Rey, we can’t. I’m too old for you._

_Our family is too complicated._

_I’ll find a way to fuck it up._

_I’m damaged goods. You’re beautiful and you have your whole life ahead of you, don't let me drag you down with me._

_I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realise I was a mistake and you’ll leave me like everyone else does eventually. And I really don’t think I will be able to put myself back together after you’re gone._

He doesn't get a chance to say any of this, because Rey has gotten tired of waiting. She kisses him; it's hungry, unschooled, artless, and it burns him up from the inside. 

Her lips are so soft, and her mouth still tastes like her sorbet, tart and sweet. 

Ben knows he should stop her, it's the right thing to do; only he feels so weak, he’d loved the way she’d taken care of him throughout dinner; keeping the conversation relaxed, taking charge of ordering the food, getting him to eat his food, each one of her gentle touches leaving him hoping for more. 

She had been seducing him all night and he had been so very willing to be seduced. 

So, instead of pushing her away, he brings his hand to the back of her neck; stroking the skin gently with his thumb to slow her down. 

He teaches her how to make each kiss last, how to angle her face, how to open up her mouth, whispers to her to remember to breathe, don’t forget to breathe. 

She catches on fast and soon they are devouring each other’s mouths and its _fucking hot._

Rey squirms in his lap, rubbing herself against his hard on. Ben tries to hold her steady, keep things slow, but evidently, she’s not content to let him set the pace. 

She pulls away from his mouth, her lips are swollen and her face is flushed, her eyes dark with hunger. In one swift move, she grabs the hem of her dress and drags it up over her head before throwing it on the ground impatiently. 

Ben stares at her, gloriously naked in his lap except for her lacy white underwear like something out of one of his sordid fantasies. 

“ _Rey_.” 

He doesn't know what he would have said next because she dives back in for more kisses. 

Ben strokes her breasts, cupping them gently, thumbing her nipples until she’s gasping against his mouth, he runs his fingers over her collarbone, the ridges of her spine. He trails his hand up her thighs to stroke her pussy through panties that are already soaked through with her slick. It’s all over her thighs as well. 

When he pulls away from her mouth muttering something filthy about how wet she is already, she blushes and says she’s been like that all evening. 

They end up on the floor, he shoves a throw pillow under her hips and drags her panties down her long tanned legs so she’s naked and then he is spreading her legs and his mouth is on her, she’s whimpering and gasping his name, her thighs are trembling. 

“Oh, oh, yes, Ben, please, yes.” 

There is a part of him warning him that they are moving too fast; she’s a virgin, he needs to be gentle, he needs to talk her through this, make sure she is sure about what they are about to do. 

There’s also the other voice calling him disgusting and a lecherous monster; falling on top of her to maul her like an animal, it whispers to him that Rey is going to regret this, she will hate him tomorrow. 

But she is arching her back and she tastes so good; like salt, like the ocean, like woman, like Rey, she’s so fucking wet and slick; and its all for him. 

Its already the best sex he’s ever had and he’s not even inside her yet. 

He pushes the voices away. 

Rey is here, she’s moaning his name and it's more than anything he’s let himself hope or dream for. He focuses on sucking and laving at her clit like she’s the meal he has been waiting for since he got out. 

Ben works two fingers into her pussy, shuddering at how tight she feels. He loses himself in her, he drowns in her taste, her soft little cries. 

She comes too soon. Her muscles clench so hard she jerks her hips up and back, dislodging his fingers. 

But he doesn’t stop sucking at her clit. He’s starving, he’s ravenous. He realizes how numb he’s been, drifting through his days like he’s sleepwalking.

And now, he’s finally awake. 

Rey sobs, “Ben, wait, I need a moment,” and tries to shift her body to put some distance between his hungry mouth and her tender pussy, but he forces her hips back down and he pushes his fingers back inside. 

“You can take it, come again for me, Sweetheart.” He fucks her faster and harder making her cry out. 

Ben could probably just come from the sounds she is making and the way she says his name as she climbs towards another orgasm. 

She makes a surprised sound when she comes again, harder this time and when he still does not relent she starts to sob and pull and tug at his hair and begging him to stop, crying plaintively that he’s eating her raw, and please Ben, it’s too much, please.

He pulls away reluctantly, kissing a path up her body, pausing briefly to wipe his face with the bottom of his shirt before kissing her and pulling her in his arms. 

He carries her into his bedroom, her arms and legs wrapped around him, and he doesn't stop kissing her, he bumps into a wall and walks into a door but somehow they make it into his bedroom. 

Ben lays her down on his crisp white sheets before undressing quickly. He can barely believe that Rey is here, she’s naked and waiting for him on his bed. 

When his eyes move over her body, she bites her lip, her hands come up to squeeze her breasts, she slowly spreads her knees, letting him look at her wet thighs and the shiny folds of her pink pussy. 

The view is a million times more erotic than anything Ben has ever seen and he has to give his cock a painful squeeze so he doesn’t spill into his hand, right there and then.

He makes a low desperate sound in his throat and Rey reaches out her hand to him. “Come here.” She murmurs. 

Ben doesn't hesitate, he crawls up the bed to cover her body with his own, savoring the feeling of them pressed up against one another, skin to skin. 

“I love the way you look at me, it makes me feel so sexy.” She confesses shyly, pressing little kisses over his scar. 

“You are sexy, Sweetheart,” he gives a little thrust of his cock against her belly to show her how hard he is. 

“You’re so beautiful, and you taste so good,” he punctuates his praise with hot, hard kisses against her mouth, “I want you so much it feels a little like dying.” 

Ben strokes his hands over every part of her until she makes a whining noise and writhes impatiently. Ben loves how needy she is, loves that he can make her feel good like this. 

“I don’t have any protection Rey,” he says breathlessly when he feels her grinding her soaked sex against his thigh. “I won't come inside you, ok?” She only nods frantically, pulling his face back to hers to kiss him. 

Ben knows how fucking stupid and reckless he is being. He is supposed to be the experienced and wiser one of the two of them, but he’s acting like a horny teenager but he can’t really bring himself to care as he presses the head of his cock against her, slowly inching his way inside.

It’s not easy. He hasn’t been with a virgin before; her pussy is so _so_ tight, and her muscles don’t give way for him easily. She whimpers and moans the whole time, and Ben feels lightheaded from how turned on he is.

He has to stop when he’s halfway in because it feels like there’s nowhere left to go. 

“How- how does it feel?” He asks her anxiously. She doesn’t answer, her eyes are closed, her face pinched. “Sweetheart, does it hurt?”

“It feels like-,” she stops and wriggles her hips a little. Alarmed, Ben quickly stills her movements so he doesn't come, “It feels like I’ve got the eggplant emoji wedged in my pussy.”

Ben pauses, his brain trying to process what she is saying, and then he bursts out laughing. 

Rey shrieks and smacks his arm, “Don’t laugh, It’s true!”

He can't contain himself so he slips out of her and rolls over onto his back. Rey rolls onto her side, watching him quake with laughter until she is smiling at him and laughing too.

Ben didn’t know it could be like this, it feels new to him, this combination of horniness and shared laughter. 

His emotions have always felt too big, too huge for him, but this gentle glow of happiness in his chest feels so good; so effortless and right. 

When the laughter dies down, Ben gathers her close for more kisses thinking maybe they’ll give it another go some other time but Rey clambers on top of him and says she wants to try again. 

This time, she rubs her clit gently and palms her tits as she sinks down slowly onto him. 

He grasps her by the hips gently guiding her, showing her how to rise up in her knees and sink back down onto him. He tries to memorize each expression that crosses her face as she discovers the feeling of having him inside her. 

She's clenched her eyes shut, her mouth is open as she shifts to accommodate him. He would have thought she was hurting only every time she sinks down onto him he feels her getting softer and wetter around him. 

They rock against one another slowly, like they both want it to last as long as possible. 

But neither of them manage to keep it slow and gentle for long; it feels like they’ve both been waiting for this forever. 

Ben is thrusting hard up into her, gripping her thighs while she’s moaning and pressing down hard on her clit with her fingers and crying out as she comes around him. 

She drapes herself over him, sated and pink and sweaty, she kisses his neck, his cheeks, his mouth and tells him she loves him and she’s waited for him for so long and _please, please Ben, please come inside me_. 

He’s done for, he’s a wreck of a human being, and he’s been so alone for so long but she knows everything about him and she’s still here, _she’s here_ and she’s so tight, and so warm and she loves him - he manages a few frantic thrusts up into her before he gasps and shudders as he spends himself in her sweet body. 

As the sweat on their bodies cools and the glow of the release fades he suddenly and inexplicably feels terrified. He can’t really believe this is all real; that she really wants him the way he wants her because nothing as good and and perfect as her really happens to him. 

He clutches her to him, desperately afraid this is too good to be true and any moment now he is going to wake up and find himself back in his bunk in the tiny concrete cell, alone with his hand and sweatpants stained with come. 

But she doesn't fade like a dream.

Rey doesn’t ask him what’s wrong. It’s like she is inside his head, she sees everything and she knows exactly what to say and exactly what to do as he begins to tremble. 

“I love you baby,” she whispers, “I love you. I’m here and you’re not alone.” 

He feels a howl building in his chest, he buries his face in her shoulder and a sob tears out of his chest. 

Everything is loosening inside him. He is splintering, he is breaking. Years and years worth of hurt, regret, and pain is suddenly pouring out and Rey, his love, she doesn’t shy away, she never stops holding him as he falls apart in her arms. 

***

He wakes up sometime before dawn to Rey pressed up against his back, her arm is slung around his waist, one leg possessively draped over his thigh, snoring into his shoulder. 

He smiles, he is loathe to move and disturb her, and then sometime later, he drifts back to sleep. 

***

Rey is already awake and pressing little kisses along his cheek the next time he drifts into consciousness. Late morning sunlight is streaming through the gaps in the curtain. He shifts and sighs contently. 

Her little hand moves over his bare chest, down his left flank, tracing the scar there. “When did this happen?” she whispers.

He keeps his eyes closed, still drowsy and half asleep when he answers. “Around the time you were in Australia. Got jumped in the exercise yard.”

He feels her lay her head on his chest. He strokes his fingers through her soft hair and down her back, enjoying the simple intimacy of waking up in a lover’s arms, having the right to caress her however he pleases.

“Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” It's the easiest thing to say, lying here in bed together in the late morning, his skin and his sheets smelling of sex and Rey. 

“There’s no other man for me. I hope you know that. I want everything with you. I want marriage, I want a house, I want children with you. Four of them at least. Tall, strong girls with your eyes and dark hair.” She pauses to take a breath, “But I also want you to be honest with me, does it scare you? When I say things like that?”

He smiles, his eyes open to look down at the crown of her head resting under his chin, wondering if it would scare her to know that she has just exactly described his own feelings for her too. 

He shouldn't have been so hung up on their age differences. What does it matter that she is nineteen now and he will be thirty soon? It won't matter when they're both wrinkled and grey, he'll still look into her eyes and see her as he does now, his luminous, fierce, brave miracle, his wonder of wonders, his Rey.

“No. It doesn't scare me. It makes me happy.”

“Good, but...maybe not for a few years. After your parole is finished I want to see the world with you. I want to go diving in the red sea. I want to see Paris with you. And eat sushi and dumplings with you in Japan.” She traces her finger over the ridges on his stomach. 

“I’d like that.”

She cranes her head back so she can look up at him. 

“I promised myself that I’m not holding back anymore.”

“Were you holding back?

“I was, last night, at dinner.” She grins up at him mischievously. “Tallie told me not to come on to you too strongly. She said you’d spook. I was trying to be all gallant and gentle with you so you wouldn’t bolt or faint.” 

Ben pinches her hard on her waist in retaliation and she giggles and squirms. 

“But you were driving me too crazy,” she says after the laughter has died down. 

She flops onto her back and gazes up at the ceiling dreamily. Ben watches on with interest as her hands come up to squeeze her breasts and play with her own nipples as she keeps talking.

“You were so shy with me, when I held your hand - you looked so surprised. And you kept sneaking looks at my tits when you thought I wasn't looking, and you’re like _massive_ and so tall and your shoulders,” she sighs. 

Ben feels suddenly like he can't breathe as he watches her hand disappear under the sheet. 

“You’re such a big guy, and you make me feel tiny. You have no idea how badly I wanted to grab your hand on the drive back here and shove it between my legs so I could show you how wet I was. I just knew if I didn't have you when we got back to your apartment I was going to die.”

“Jesus, Rey.” His voice is hoarse. 

She looks over at him, eyes hazy with arousal, her hand movements under the sheet are speeding up, her voice is barely more than a whisper. “You’re watching me right now, and I can feel how much you want me but it's like - you’re waiting for permission to touch me.”

He swallows. “I just- aren’t you sore?”

“Yes,” her eyes flutter shut, her breathing is faster, “I loved it, having you inside me. I’d thought about it so many times when we were writing to each other - and when it finally happened - I felt like I was being split in two. I want it again. I don't think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

***

Ben realizes, perhaps too late, that his Rey is a greedy, lustful creature. 

He has been fooled, perhaps, by her sweet face, her young age, and inexperience. 

But when he moves to cover her body with his own and gently pushes into her, she whispers dreamy praise for his big hard cock filling her up so well, and how he’s ruined her for all other men, he’s going to have to spend his life making it up to her filling her up with his tongue, his fingers, his cock and his come - he's gasping and shaking as he realizes he is in danger. 

She tightens her legs around him, her hands run down the length of his spine to dig her nails into his ass urging him on, “Harder baby, I won't break,” she pants into his ear, “Fuck me harder.” 

He loses track of time, he doesn’t know if they fuck for hours or days or weeks because whenever her walls start to tighten around him she forces him to stop and kiss and suck her nipples until she allows him to continue. 

And every-time he starts to feel his balls tighten and his moans get louder she asks him if he’s close and when he says yes, again, she tells him to hold still and somehow he does, trembling like a leaf as she threads her fingers through his hair and rewards him with sweet kisses, whispering to him she likes this so much, and that they should make it last; keep fucking each other until the world ends.

When their hair and bodies are both completely soaked with sweat, and he has her body pinned down on the bed with his own; his knees, his thighs and his back are burning and he’s desperately thrusting hard and rough into her drenched and swollen pussy while she keens with pleasure; he is begging her to let them both come, she reaches up and grabs his chin hard, forcing him to look her in the eyes. 

“Say that you’re mine.” 

" _I’m yours_ ,” he gasps, and it’s never been more true. 

“Say you’ll never leave me.” 

“Never,” he says fervently, he’s fucking her so hard now, he’s driving them up the bed, he must be hurting her, but she’s staring up at him for his answer, “ _I’ll never leave you_.” 

“Come inside me,” she bites his lip before soothing it with her tongue, her fingernails digging into his ass, “I want to feel you come inside me.” 

Some semblance of sanity breaks through his sex-hazed mind, “I came- last night - Rey,” the protest dies in his throat when she bites his lip again, hard enough to break the skin. 

“Let me feel you come inside me,” she says breathlessly, her eyes burning into him. “I want to feel you fill me up with your come, it's yours and it belongs to me. I want to feel it dripping out of me.” 

He doesn’t have the strength to refuse her, he is a beast after all, a love-starved, lonely beast and she is his _beautiful, tight, wet princess,_ and so he comes as she commands, he comes and comes and comes until he collapses on top of her, spent and boneless. 

Somehow, he manages to push himself up with his arms so she can reach her hand between their bodies to touch herself, it only takes a few seconds before she’s crying out and clenching hard around his cock. 

***

_I wanted to write about this in the letter. The day was supposed to start with really good morning sex. But you never said anything about those photos of me I sent you, I didn’t want to be too forward._

_Thank God you didn’t. If you had I would have gotten on the first flight to New York as soon as I got released._

_Coward._

_Tease._

_You’ll come back as soon as you can, right?_

_I will. It’s only until November. I will apply to have my parole conditions changed so I can live in Miami, I promise I’ll come back for you, Sweetheart._

_Ben._

  
  
  


**[sometime later]**

_Let’s take a shower. And go get breakfast. I’m starving._

_I thought you were supposed to make me breakfast._

_Actually, this is how the day is really supposed to start. We have sex until we’re too tired for a round three. We fool around in the shower, and then we go out and you buy me breakfast._

_Then what happens after breakfast?_

_We do whatever we want, Ben. Anything we want. We have all the time in the world for each other now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. 
> 
> We'll return to the mystery and Blanc's POV next chapter. I like to think of these chapters from Rey and Ben's POV as little interludes in the story, but there's still stuff here that will become relevant later. 
> 
> I loved writing Ben here, my poor boy, he's been through so much and all I want is for him and Rey to be happy. Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think in the comments below. 
> 
> So we're heading now into the final part of this fic. There's three more explosive chapters and then an epilogue to come. 
> 
> I've started to work on my next fic, which is going to be a Reylo/GoT AU. I have already started the first chapter and it will delve heavily into the magic in the world of AsoIaF. In the books, magic tends to operate on the fringes of the story, and I love all the online Youtube videos on theories on the shadowlands of Asshai and the twin forces battling for dominance in the universe, sounds perfect for our divine couple no? 
> 
> But it's still going to feature medieval politics, sword-fighting, tourney and lots and lots of kinky glove sex! Any GoT fans here? Let me know if you'd be interested in following that story. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. In which Blanc starts to fill the hole that isn't a donut hole but something else entirely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I've been a busy bee this week. The first two chapters of my new fic [Teacher's Pet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23014774/chapters/55029229) are up, it features a forbidden Teacher/Student romance between an older Rey and younger Ben. Please check if out if you think you'd be interested (I actually just wanted to write a sexy, fluffy little one-shot but I ended up starting an angst-filled multi-chapter fic. Urgh. Someone stop me). 
> 
> So, we're back to the mystery action this week. Shit starts getting real! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

In his line of work, it is never good to get a phone call in the middle of the night. 

Blanc reaches blindly in the direction of the bedside table reaching for the hotel landline. 

“Mm-ello?” 

“Good morning Mister Blanc,” an exceedingly polite voice on the other end of the phone greets him. “I am very sorry to disturb you. But you have a visitor here at reception who says she needs to see you as a matter of urgency.” 

Blanc sits up and looks at the nightstand, the red glowing numbers of the digital clock says it’s just past two o’clock in the morning. 

“Who is it?” 

“She says her name is Ms Rey Niima.” 

Blanc is suddenly wide awake. “I’ll be right down.” 

He throws off the covers, throwing on the first items he can find in the closet which happens to be a black polo and khaki pants. He dashes into the bathroom to throw cold water on his face and guzzle some mouthwash before leaving his room. 

The lobby of his hotel is already teeming with a group of Japanese tourists who have just arrived and are waiting to be checked into the hotel. 

Blanc spots Rey’s slim figure, her hair is mussed and she looks like she has just rolled out of bed. She’s thrown on an oversized black hoodie and she is wearing pink pyjama bottoms decorated with little jars of peanut butter. 

She sees him walking in her direction and turns her head to face him and he stops dead in his tracks. There is nasty blue-purple bruise forming on the right side of her face and her bottom lip is cut and swelling. 

“Good God almighty!” Blanc exclaims, startling some of the tourists standing nearby. “What happened to you?!” 

***

_Her would-be killer doesn’t notice her until it’s too late. She brings the pool cue down on their outstretched arm in one hard downward swing._

_The intruder lets out a sound of alarm, the gun goes skidding across the bedroom floor._

_They spin around to face her._

_She swings again, but they’re too fast, moving quickly to duck under the cue and the long wooden stick splinters in half when it impacts against the wall._

_Rey turns, and then the masked intruder is coming at her at a run, they both crash to the floor. The wind is knocked out of her, her face slams hard against the polished wood of her bedroom floor, she tastes blood in her mouth._

_When her vision clears, she realizes she is pinned down._

_They’re on top of her, she sees a gloved hand grasping and straining towards the gun lying on the floor, perhaps one or two feet out of reach in front of them._

_Rey panics, she rears back and knocks the back of her head into their face, her assailant grunts and the other arm that isn’t straining out towards the gun grabs her by the hair, forcing her face down into the floor._

_She lets out a blood curdling scream that pierces the still night. But there’s no one here. No one to help her._

_She starts to thrashes wildly beneath her assailant, her mouth opens to scream again but no sound comes out, there’s no breath in her lungs; she’s that lost little orphan girl again - pinned down underneath a large sweaty creature, she’s small and she’s so terrified, so alone -_

_-a red ball of rage unfurls in her chest, that little girl was_ dangerous _when frightened, an instinct comes over her to claw and fight and live and win -_

_She manages to turn her head and the arm holding her down is right there, the sleeve has ridden up and their flesh exposed to her. She lunges forward, her teeth sinks into the arm and she bites down. Hard._

_The person cries out in pain, tries to jerk their arm away, Rey just sinks her teeth in deeper and twists so her elbow jabs into their spleen, hard._

_The intruder panics and Rey finally lets go of their arm, they twist away from her as she lunges forward. Her desperate and frenzied movements jostles the gun where it was resting and it goes skidding across the room and under her bed. There is a thump as it hits the bedroom wall._

_Then, there’s silence._

_Rey gets to her feet slowly._

_Her room is empty._

_She staggers into the hallway, into the foyer._

_The front door is wide open._

_They’re gone._

  
  


***

Blanc examines the pistol that’s been thoughtfully placed inside a plastic sandwich bag. He recognizes the make and model, it's a G19 Glock, one the most popular handguns sold in the United States. A person could walk into any gun store and purchase one of these guns easily enough.

“I tried to call Poe.” Rey explains. They’re sitting in a corner booth in the empty hotel bar, Blanc had asked the lone bartender for a cloth napkin filled with ice and Rey is gingerly pressing the makeshift compress to her bruised face. 

“He didn’t answer, but he went out drinking with Finn and I doubt either of them are sober right now. I didn’t want to talk to Hux, not if Poe wasn’t going to be around too, and then - I thought of you.” 

Blanc’s mind is turning, “You didn’t get a look at their face. What about their height? Weight? When you were both struggling - they would have grunted or made some noise. Was their voice deep or high?” 

Rey considers his questions. “They were tall, maybe six feet? Solidly built. Strong and fit. I couldn't tell if it was a male or female from their voice. But from the shoulders, maybe a man? I really can’t remember anything else. My heart was beating so fast and I was so terrified, all I was focusing on was not getting killed.” 

Blanc considers the young woman for a moment. 

“You have good instincts about people don’t you Rey. I imagine, growing up the way you did, alone, with nobody around to protect you, you learnt quickly to trust your gut on who you can trust and who you can’t. Am I correct?” 

“I guess so?” 

“So you trust me. Don’t you? That’s why you came to see me tonight, instead of heading down to the police station to hand over this gun and give your statement.” 

Rey nods slowly. 

Blanc leans forward staring at her intently. “You _can_ trust me, Rey. I want to find the person who murdered your father and bring them to justice. I got no ulterior motives. 

“And I have good instincts too, and my instincts tell me we can be friends. However, for that to happen, you’re gonna have to start being more honest with me.” 

Rey leans back in the booth, eyeing him with a guarded look. “What are you talking about?” 

“Ben Solo.” Blanc says. She swallows and quickly averts her eyes, “Why haven’t either of you told the police you’ve been carrying on a relationship?” 

Rey breathes deeply. She considers him wearily, then seems to come to a decision. 

“Ben came down here to see Han,” she says, finally.

“We’ve been together since he got released and his parole is almost up. We didn’t want to sneak around anymore, so….I wanted to be the one to tell Han. It should have been me to do it. 

“But Ben insisted that he had to be the one to talk to Han and I didn’t...I didn’t fight him on it. But I should have. I should have been the one to talk to Han - maybe everything would have gone differently.” her soft voice is filled with regret. 

“So Tuesday night. The fight in Maz’s bar.” Blanc prods, “Ben told Han about you and him. That’s what they were fighting about.” 

“Yeah, Han came back and found me in the equipment shed. He was _so mad_. So angry. I’d never seen him like that before. He told me that Ben and I were finished. He said if I wanted to keep seeing him, he was going to -,” Rey’s voice cracks, she swallows quickly before continuing, “He threatened to kick me out, he said he’d never speak to me ever again.” 

“Is that why you didn’t want to tell the Police about you and Ben? Because it would make Ben look bad?” 

She frowns. “Why would it look bad?” 

“Han forbade you from seeing Ben, told you to leave him for good. Isn’t that a good motive?” 

Rey stares at him dubiously. “That's an odd assumption to make. You think Ben would have killed Han just because Han _forbid_ me from seeing him anymore? It’s not the middle ages. I’m not a kid. We knew Han wouldn’t approve immediately. That’s why we kept putting off telling him. Han would have come around eventually, it was just going to take time.” 

“But is that how Ben saw it? And if Han didn’t come around, if it came down to a choice between Han or him, he was certain you’d choose him?” 

Rey falters, and stares at him with wide eyes. 

“That’s not - that’s not the reason why we didn’t tell the police. Ben...had good reasons for keeping it quiet, not that I agreed with him, but he has his reasons. And besides, you said the other day that the police were nowhere close to making an arrest. I just assumed Ben wasn’t on your radar despite the rumors because he had a solid alibi.” 

“He did?”

“Ben was at his villa with me on Thursday night. And Ben said the property had security cameras at the gate.” 

“You were with him at the house?” Blanc frowns, “Joni Thrombey says you came back before sunrise, and the cameras don’t show Ben leaving the house until ten o'clock in the morning the next day.” 

“I didn’t leave through the front gate. I went in my kayak.” 

“Kayak? That must have been at least twenty miles in the dark.” 

“It’s no big deal, I paddle right past the bay behind the house every morning. That’s why I chose the place for him to rent.” 

“Do you know where he was tonight?” 

She freezes, then her shock turns to anger and she glares at Blanc. “If you think, that Ben would _ever,_ lift a hand against me, or harm a single hair on my body-” 

“Settle down,” Blanc says to calm her fast rising ire, “I don’t think Ben was the one who broke into the house tonight, you’d have recognized him.” 

Rey frowns, “Then why are you asking about where he was tonight?” 

Blanc dodges the question by asking, “Have you tried calling him?”

“Yes, but he didn’t pick up his phone. I drove to the villa before I came here and he wasn’t there.” 

Blanc checks the time, it’s almost three o’clock in the morning. “Did you drive here?” 

“I borrowed Luke’s car.” 

He gets to his feet. “Let’s take a drive.” 

“Where are we going?” Rey demands as she follows him out of the bar. 

“We’re going to wake the ME up.” 

***

The medical examiner is not happy to find a gentleman sleuth and a badly bruised woman on his doorstep in the middle of the night.

“Why the _hell_ couldn’t this have waited until morning?” Mace Windu is an older black gentleman, although it's hard for Blanc to guess his age, it's his slow movements in the kitchen as he puts on the tea kettle that gives his age away.

“I am really sorry to trouble you sir, but I wouldn’t have if this wasn’t of the utmost importance and urgency.”

Mace makes a sound of grumbled disbelief. He opens his freezer and rummages around, pulling out a bag of frozen vegetables. “Here.” He hands it to Rey. “The swellings’ going to get worse before it gets better.”

Mace slowly lowers himself onto a chair at the kitchen table, his joints creaking. 

“Now what, was so urgent, that got you both here hammering on my door at nearly four o’clock in the morning? You’re lucky I was already up to let my dog out, or else I’d have just slept right through and you’d be standing out on my doorstep, would have served the two of you right though. Banging on the door, frightening an old man like me.”

Blanc sets the manila folder he had taken from his hotel room down on the table. He pauses and says to Rey. “Maybe you oughta leave the room Rey. It won’t be easy for you to look at these photos.”

Rey shakes her head firmly. “It’s fine. Just go ahead.” 

Blanc removes a couple of photographs from the folder, spreading them out on the table in a methodical order. 

Mace frowns, reaching for the glasses hanging around his neck to slide them onto his nose to look down at the photos. “I performed the examination on this fella a few days ago. Severe internal injuries, cause of death was the burst right atrium. Most likely from blunt-force trauma.”

“It didn't burst.”

Mace frowns at him, “Excuse me?”

Blanc directs his attention to the photos lined up on the table, naming each one as he points at them, “Scrotum, intestines, pancreas, stomach, liver, heart.” 

Mace turns to glare up at Blanc. “Oh, thank you,” he says sarcastically, “Yes, please, do educate me, a medical examiner of forty years experience, on the organs of the body. Thank you for your assistance.” 

Blanc makes a noise of frustration, “No, that’s not- _can’t you see it_?” 

“See what?!” Mace snaps, turning to Rey, “What is this lunatic talking about?” 

“The track! The trajectory!” Blanc jabs at the photo of the heart. “ _That’s_ a bullet hole.” 

“ _What?_ ” Rey and Mace lean forward to stare at the photograph. 

“The tear in the scrotum; the skin there is soft and pliable; it folded over the entry wound, so nobody realized that’s where the bullet entered the body.” 

Blanc points at each photograph again, “It moved through the intestines, the pancreas, the stomach, the liver, it traveled in one straight line, right through the heart.” 

Mace splutters, “That’s preposterous, this man was crushed to death!” 

Blanc sighs, “Well, besides blunt-force trauma, could a bullet cause the same kind of damage we’re seeing here?”

Mace is silent. 

He is staring intently at the photograph of the heart, the perfectly round hole. 

“Goddamnit the press is gonna kill me.” He says at last. “That’s a fucking bullet hole.” 

Blanc pulls out the gun wrapped inside the plastic sandwich bag. “Sir, we’re gonna need your office to check if the bullets in that hand-piece match up to that hole in Han Solo’s right atrium. Because I have a feeling that they will.” 

Rey stares at the gun on the table. Then she turns her wide eyes on Blanc, her face bleached white. “Why...do you think that?” 

“Because,” Blanc says darkly, “That’s exactly what they wanted us to see.” 

***

Dawn is breaking when they return to the Inn. 

Blanc finds Finn innocently snoring on the living room couch, a blanket tossed over his head. 

Blanc finds Rey in the kitchen. The empty coffee pot is in her hands as she stares blankly into space. She blinks and comes back to herself when Blanc joins her in the kitchen. 

“Coffee?” 

“Please.” Blanc replies, easing himself into one of the kitchen stools at the counter. 

They’re silent as the coffee brews, each of them caught up in their own thoughts. 

Rey finds a fresh ice pack in the freezer, she winces as she presses the pack to her split lip. 

She pours them each a cup of the fresh coffee before finally asking, “Do you know? Who shot Han?” 

Blanc gratefully accepts the sugar bowl she pushes in his direction. “Not yet. But I will soon. The killer’s made a mistake by coming after you last night. A very grave mistake.” 

Rey frowns, “But why-” 

They are startled by the sound of the front door swinging opening, heavy footsteps move through the house in their direction and then Ben Solo appears in the kitchen in a black shirt and jeans looking pale and exhausted. 

His eyes land on Blanc briefly before sliding over to Rey, who stares back at him, relief washing over her features.

“Oh thank God, I’ve been trying to call you all morning,” Rey sets her coffee mug on the counter and crosses the room to Ben who is standing very still, staring at her face in shock. “Are you okay?” 

“ _Am I okay_?” The deep timbre of his voice is laced with disbelief and anguish, his dark eyes fixed on Rey’s face. “What happened to your face?” 

Rey doesn’t answer, Blanc watches as she takes a step towards him, her arms wrap around his waist, the uninjured side of her face presses itself against his large chest, and she lets out a sound of relief.

Ben throws a startled look over at Blanc and quickly tries to move away. Rey’s arms tighten around him. 

“Blanc. Give us a moment please?” Her voice is slightly muffled by Ben’s shirt.

Blanc takes his coffee mug with him as he slips out of the kitchen. 

“Rey -”

“Baby, we need to talk.” 

Their voices fade away as Blanc steps out onto the front porch to slip his coffee slowly. 

Blanc notices Ben had arrived in the same black sedan he had been driving yesterday instead of the Audi SUV he had seen at the villa.

There’s an armchair on the porch that Blanc sinks into wearily as he drinks his coffee, trying to sort through his thoughts. 

His respite doesn’t last long because a few moments later, another sleek black sedan pulls up to the house, Luke gets out first before crossing to the passenger side to help his sister out of the car. 

“Mr Blanc,” Luke greets Blanc wearily. “What are you doing here so early?” 

Blanc sighs. “Wishing I was back in my bed.” He looks over at Leia, who is leaning a little on Luke, her face looks haggard and her usually sharp eyes are dulled. “Secretary Organa,” he says, concerned, “Are you all right?” 

“She’s stretched herself too thin, as usual,” Luke replies grumpily, “You should have just stayed at the hotel.” 

“Ben said it was urgent, on the phone.” Leia replies firmly, before giving Blanc a polite smile, “I am a bit more tired than usual, I even slept through my alarm this morning. I can’t remember the last time that happened. Nothing that an afternoon nap won’t cure.” 

“Ben?” Blanc wonders. “He asked to meet you here?” 

He thinks of the young lovers as he had left them, embracing in the kitchen, and rushes to open the door, “He’s already inside,” he says loudly, ignoring the strange looks thrown at him by Luke and Leia, “In the kitchen with Rey.” 

This alarms them, which is no surprise given the scene that Ben and Rey had caused the last time they had been together in the same room. They hurry into the house with Blanc following at a steadier pace. 

Rey is in the kitchen alone, Ben is nowhere to be seen. 

There’s a loud exclamation from Leia as she catches sight of Rey’s face.

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Rey says soothingly. “There was an intruder in the house last night. But I fought them off and they ran away.” 

This does not have the soothing effect it was obviously intended to have, and Luke and Leia start launching questions at Rey. The interrogation is interrupted, thankfully, when Ben steps back into the kitchen and the room quickly falls silent. 

“Mom,” Ben greets his mother, his face has become that expressionless mask once more but discomfort radiates from his large body. He clears his throat, glances over at Rey who gives him an encouraging look. 

Then he turns to face his uncle, “Luke,” he says, his tone is carefully neutral. 

“Ben.” Luke replies. 

The kitchen lapses into an awkward silence. 

“You said you have something urgent to tell me?” Leia prompts, her tone is gentle and encouraging. 

“We better wait until Maz gets here,” Ben replies, “I don’t really know the full story. It’s easier if she tells you.”

“Tell me what?” 

“Yeah, Solo, tell her what?” They turn around as Poe and Hux enter the kitchen, their expressions grim. 

“Poe?” Rey frowns as another uniformed officer joins the increasingly crowded space. “What are you doing here?” 

Poe and Hux look exhausted, neither of them even register Rey’s bruised face or Blanc’s presence. They only have eyes for Ben. 

“Ben Organa Solo.” Poe begins, “We have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Han Solo.” Poe recites Ben his Miranda rights as the room erupts into chaos. 

Rey steps protectively in front of Ben as the officer moves forward with a set of handcuffs in her hands. “What are you doing?” she demands angrily. “Ben couldn’t have killed Han. It’s not possible!” 

“We got a call,” Hux says coolly, “Someone saw Solo driving the Millennium Falcon into a private boathouse at the Marina early this morning. The boathouse is being rented, the paperwork registered in his name.” 

“What?” Leia breathes, she stares at Ben and the look on her face seems to break his composure. 

“I didn’t.” He says quietly, staring at his mother, then at his uncle. “I swear,” his voice cracks and Blanc feels his heart break a little. “I didn’t do it.” 

“He didn’t.” Every eye in the room turns to Rey. 

“I was with Ben the night Han died. We were together at his villa, I was with him all night.” 

She steps back so that she can slip her hand into Ben’s so there is no doubt as to what she means when she says that they were _together._

The room is so silent that you could have heard a pin drop. 

Rey looks at Leia and Luke's matching dumbfounded expressions, explaining, “We’re in love - we’re going to get married. That’s why Ben came here; to tell Han.” 

“Rey,” Ben interrupts her suddenly, “Rey, Sweetheart, stop talking. I’m calling my attorney.” 

“But you didn’t do it.” Rey insists, “They’re wasting their time trying to pin this on you. Blanc.” Rey turns to him. “Blanc tell them.” 

But it appears that the detectives’ patience has run out. 

“Look Miss Niima, if we want a statement from you, we’ll get one.” Hux jerks his head at the officer, “But right now, Solo has to come down to the station with us. Phasma, cuff him.” 

Rey blocks the officer again, “Hey,” Hux snaps, his face is starting to turn red, “You want to get charged too? Get out of the way and let the grown-ups do their job.” 

“I would if I saw any adults in the room,” Rey says, baring her teeth at Hux, “All I see are incompetent peacocks who care more about making an arrest than finding out who actually killed my dad!” 

“Get the hell out of our way,” Hux hisses at Rey with an ugly look on his face, “And if you want to keep insisting your boyfriend was sticking his cock in your tight little cunt the night he was murdering his dad, I’ll get you tried for accessory to murder before a jury so fast you won’t even know what hit you.” 

Ben slams his fist into Hux’s face with an animal roar of fury. The two men crash onto the floor in a violent tangle of limbs; fists and obscenities flying at one another. 

It takes the combined strength of Blanc, Poe, Phasma and Luke to pull Ben off Hux. 

“I’m adding assaulting an officer to your charges, Solo,” Hux laughs cruelly as he picks himself up off the floor. “No judge is going to grant you bail, you think they’ll give you back your old cell?” 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Ben snarls, beastly rage pours out of him; and Poe and Blanc have to struggle to restrain him from lunging at Hux again. 

It’s Rey that finally manages to soothe the monster.

She steps into the space separating Hux and Ben, and Ben’s eyes snap to her face, “Ben,” Rey whispers. “Ben, stop. Stop please.” 

Ben quivers as Phasma snaps the metal cuffs over his wrists. “Rey,” he says hoarsely, “Rey if they put me back in there -” 

“They won’t,” Rey says, her voice is firm as her hands cup his face tenderly, “Remember? You’re mine. I’m not letting them take you from me.” 

She presses a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m going to call Cassian. Everything will be okay, Baby. I promise.” 

Blanc watches silently from the porch as Ben is put into the back of a police car by Phasma and Poe. 

Luke says quietly to Leia that he’s going to go to the station with Ben. He takes a seat in the backseat of the squad car next to his nephew before it speeds away from the house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a comment if you enjoyed the chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I am [@MindyCakes](https://twitter.com/mindycakes)on Twitter and @wantisamlindyla on Tumblr. Come say hi!


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